


At the Birth of Angels and Demons

by theAlmostPorcupine



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien!Henry, Alien!Joey, Aliens, Between Episodes, Dad!Henry, Fusion Universe, Post-Canon, Son!Bendy, Suspense, escaping the studio, psychic powers, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAlmostPorcupine/pseuds/theAlmostPorcupine
Summary: When a massive Groundhog Day Loop threatens to take out Earth and its neighbors, it's up to the Doctor to save the day - if he can get over his own guilt issues and Donna's rejection. Or is it that he's gotten in over his head and must team up with anyone willing? Meanwhile, murder plots are underway and rescue missions are needed.... Knowledge of BATIM not required.





	1. In Which the World is Empty

Earth. 1971.

His heart was pounding. His fingers trembling.

Squi-squi-whoosh! The otherworldly beast was right behind him.

He pressed the button. He turned as the projector flicked on.

Black on yellow.

The black beast turned to look. It roared and backed away.

The first projector was joined by a second. From this too, the beast shrank.

The beast looked straight at him. It was surrounded by a strange yellow light. The whole place was.

The beast roared and writhed. It evaporated, but the light remained and burned everything it touched.

The man covered his eyes, but he could still see it through his eyelids. “Not again.”

He could feel memories slipping. “I have a wife, Linda, and a daughter. They’re waiting for me. I have a wife, Linda, and a daughter. They’re waiting for me. I have a wife- I have a wife. She’s got to have a name.”

Time rewound.

The TARDIS knew it before the Doctor did.

* * *

The Doctor slammed a fist on the metal console. “It’s not fair! Donna Noble wanted to come. I could tell! But _no_ , she was scared of me.”

All the excess energy left his shoulders. He choked. “That’s the problem with me, isn’t it? Either I go too far or my friends leave me anyway. I’m a murderer and a parasite to the universe. Why should I even bother?”

The TARDIS rotor hummed in response, and the lights dimmed slightly. It bathed the room in a disgusted blue-green. Great, even the Old Girl saw him that way.

He covered his eyes and took a deep breath. He set his free hand on a big round button. “You know what I need? A vacation. An actual vacation. Think you can manage that?”

He pushed the button and the TARDIS vworped. Peeking through his fingers at their destination, he grimaced. He kicked the console. “Oh, _come on!_ I ask for a vacation, so you steer us into a time loop and give me a _warning message_? It’s just a time loop. You can break out!”

At another station, a red light blinked. The Doctor walked around to check on it. As he looked at the readings, an image formed in his mind’s eye:

Boom! An explosion large enough to take out decades of a star system.

He frowned. “Time looping for an entire decade? That can’t be naturally-occurring. When and where are we anyway?”

Yet again, he moved to another station to check. He looked through a camera this time, and there was a little blue-and-green planet, third from its star. “1970s.”

He turned his back and leaned on the panel. He looked up at the domed coral-and-bronze ceiling. “Right. I shouldn’t get involved. I just don’t want to be directly responsible for the explosion by leaving. I’ll dissipate the energy, and then you are taking me on a proper vacation.”

One more breath and he stood, straightened his suit coat, and walked out the TARDIS door.

He stepped out into a monochrome environment – all black or dull yellow, as though sketched on old paper. He was indoors, in a room little bigger than his TARDIS. To his right was a hammock with a poster above it:

BENDY IN “SHEEP SONGS” WITH BORIS THE WOLF!

It depicted a cartoon wolf playing a clarinet for some sheep.

In front of him was a ticking clock that clearly fit into the category “character goods.” A horned head with two pie-cut eyes poked out above the clock face. Two sets of cartoon limbs – the hands complete with white gloves – moved in rhythm with the beat.

Someone was clearly a fan of something, but the Doctor couldn’t identify the show.

He stepped closer to the clock. Doodled around it – no, not doodled, but psychically imprinted in a yellow around it – were horns longer than the character’s and a set of bulky arms.

The Doctor examined the character more carefully. “What do you think, Old Girl? Remind you of anyone?” He took the clock off the wall.

Pie-cut eyes stared up at him.

He pressed a finger to where a nose should have been and moved it around the white of the face, looking for secrets. All he found was a bit of dust between the horns and a place where black ink peeled from the character’s toothy grin.

He turned and held the clock against the poster with the wolf.

His eyes drifted to some smaller words: _PRESENTED IN SILLYVISION._

“Sillyvision?” he repeated. His eyes sparkled. “Ha! Sillyvision – Slvson! Slvson 8 is home of the Pnetiiy and the Lz, and that’s exactly what this clock is – a Pnetiiy!”

He hung the clock back on the wall and rapped his knuckles against the psychic doodles. “You match the Pnetiiy’s psychic projection abilities, but what are you supposed to be? Some sort of accident here? Doesn’t matter I suppose – I’m just here to stop the time loop.”

Opening a door, he made note of the squeaking hinges.

Luckily, no one was in the hall to hear the noise. He stepped out.

On a nearby grate hung a pair of polka-dot boxers and yellow suspenders. They looked like what that cartoon wolf was wearing in the poster.

A stench hit his nose. He sniffed – days’-old grease and bacon. Something else too. Something less edible.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

A thick black liquid dripped from the ceiling, the source of the other smell. Was that ink? It didn’t belong, and certainly not enough to make a puddle on the floor.

The Doctor got down on one knee and stuck a finger into it. Echoes, dozens of echoes, buzzed, screamed, and overlapped inside, each with a zap of psychic and time energy. It tasered his mind, leaving a sting. It twirled his stomach like an amusement park’s Twister ride. He yanked his finger out and wiped it on his slacks.

He held his clean hand above his mouth until an urge to vomit passed. One alligator… two alligator…. “You’re alive. Alive and in pain. Hello, can you understand me?”

The ink did nothing but drip from the ceiling, each new drop landing in the puddle with a distinct plop.

He straightened up, frowning. He steered himself around the ink and through an open doorway. It led to a bathroom that reeked like old gym socks and rotting books.

He tried the sink – more ink.

Above the sink was a mirror broken and clouded over to the point of uselessness. It held another Pnetiiy thought: _WHO AM I NOW?_

“Your thoughts or mine?”

He searched the stalls but found nothing else of interest in the room, so he strolled into a kitchen with a table, chairs and a stove. No fridge, but plenty of empty shelves.

On the floor was a third thought: _I’M SORRY, BUDDY._

The Doctor dove on the message, pressing his hands and one of his temples against it to get a better feel. He got weak waves off it – the equivalent of trying to listen through earbuds that are several feet away.

Pushing himself up, he said, “Whoever you are, I’m going to find you and find out what you know about this time loop.”

He examined the table for clues.

There was a toolbox. Empty. There was a bowl, and what remnants of soup were in it were crusted over. There were playing cards and a scorecard, tallying equal points between a Henry and a – Boris?

He walked further into the kitchen. Just a nook. All that was there was a collage of cartoon body parts – human and wolf.

His stomach churned. He shook his head. “No. I make things worse by getting involved.”

He turned to leave. Across the kitchen was a heavy metal door with a lever to open it.

His eyes caught on a painting above the lever. It was in the same yellow-and-black as everything else, but there was a winding street, round-topped trees, and west-Earth style houses. _REMINDS ME OF HOME_ was psychically scrawled over the canvas.

“But it doesn’t look anything like Slvson 8.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the sight.

As he strode toward the lever, he pulled his gaze away from the painting. When the lever was down, the gate clinked into the ceiling.

The hallway beyond was also empty.

He looked around. Vending machine… desk… wooden cabinet….

Around the next corner was a section of hall with its lights burned out, so the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He lit its blue tip enough that he could see the nearest walls and shelving, and he passed through, avoiding more ink that was leaking from the ceiling.

As he emerged into a better-lit room, he heard something. He stepped over a loose vent cover and pressed his ear against the solid gate that blocked his passage.

_Thu-thump. Thu-thump._

“Hello?” the Doctor called.

The noise was gone.

The Doctor bent down and shone his makeshift flashlight into the large vent near the floor. There was a layer of dust in there, and its center had been disturbed. Not recently enough to be clean.

He pressed his lips together. “No other way out from this side. Not unless you have a sonic screwdriver.”

He aimed his tool at the wall and activated the lifting mechanism.

Strangely, there wasn’t a way to activate the gate from the other side either. Inside, there was a column, around which a cavernous room had a sign declaring it to be Heavenly Toys – part of Joey Drew Studios.

Ink cascaded from the ceiling, over a carved _DREAMS COME TRUE,_ behind the workshop’s sign, and into an indoor pool. On either of the room’s sides, a staircase led up and behind the ink-fall’s wall. Plushies filled the corners, plushies of both the Pnetiiy and the wolf. Little fences ran from the front of the room toward the back, and toy airplanes hung from the ceiling.

Posters on the walls hinted at what the Slvsonians told Earth their character was:

BENDY IN… “HELL’S

KITCHEN”

SERVED IN SILLYVISION

...and...

BENDY IN

HELL

FIRE

FIGHTER

_PRESENTED IN SILLYVISION_

There were other posters, but the Doctor had enough to draw his conclusions.

He stepped inside the workshop and sought out clues about the time loop. He found two possibilities.

First was another wooden cabinet like the one in the hall. This one, he stopped to search. It was chest-height and had a single door that swung, a door with a slot and a painted halo. It was labeled _Little Miracle Station._

As soon as his hand met the door, he felt a push on his mind. He wanted to look anywhere but inside – or at least his instincts did. But _he,_ he knew what a perception filter was and who could place one on this cabinet. “You who I heard earlier – are you hiding somewhere around here? I’m onto you. If both you Slvsonian species are working together, it means you’re travelers from the future – you should know better than to charge a time loop!”

He yanked the door open. No papers, no circuits – nothing except a bench – but for good measure, the Doctor felt around inside to confirm the thing was empty. He climbed inside and closed the door.

The slot was the perfect height to see out of.

Onto the second possible hint – something drawn on the floor. He stopped when he was close enough to make out a stylized pentagram – a psychic circuit really – surrounded by burned-out candles. Sixteen grinning Bendy cut-outs stood between it and a sofa.

Time flashed. Everything went yellow. It glowed.

A few cut-outs lay in the workshop. Their pieces littered the floor. Splinters covered footprints and dust.

Time relented, leaving the Doctor blinking at the many cut-outs standing intact. He glanced around. “Please tell me someone’s in here. Time isn’t supposed to be doing that! It’s like it’s fractured. You know what that means, don’t you? I can help you fix it. No need to hide.”

Another flash. The yellow. The glow. They were back.

The cut-outs were blocking a threadbare sofa. A fit man snored behind them.

Time returned to normal.

The workshop remained empty and silent. The Doctor shook his head. “Fine. Be that way. You’ll come out when you realize how much trouble you’re in here.”

He squatted down to get a better look at the pentagram, eyes tracing an inscribed pentagon with a near-circle inside it. That circle looked more like an outline of Bendy’s head. Stylized. Basic. The Slvsonians could easily have done it, but it shouldn’t be connected to time. He had to move on.

Past the fences, he climbed the stairs. He walked through a room with a workbench and shelves of merchandise – largely of an Lz knock-off character. She even had the pearly horns and the glowing psychic circle above her head that the species sometimes had.

There was a cassette player lying on the workbench, but it had no hints about what could be causing the time loop. So the Doctor moved along until he reached a hall that forked.

He stood in front of a sign post. To the right was the Angel Path _,_ which was open. To the left was the Demon Path, which was blocked by a solid gate. Listening closely, the Doctor thought he heard something plop inside the Demon Path.

The decision was made. The Doctor soniced the gate open easily, but the moment he did so, ink flowed underneath. He ran to the toy shop to disassemble some shelves.

He took stock of the room as he laid the first plank: ink dripped from the ceilings, and the liquid might have well been the floor and some support columns, but the room was worth it. Near the opposite wall lay a cassette player and a thought: _HIS_ _DREAM._ _MY_ _EFFORT._

The Doctor took half an hour to gather the planks to cross the ink. He picked up the cassette player and examined its label: VOICE OF JOEY DREW. He pressed play.

_There’s nothing wrong with dreaming._ _Wishing for the impossible is just human nature. That’s how I got started. Just a pencil and a dream. We all want everything without even having to lift a finger. They say you just have to believe._

_Belief can make you succeed._

_Belief can make you rich._

_Belief can make you powerful._

_Why with enough belief, you can even cheat death itself._

_Now that… is a beautiful, and positively silly thought._

The Doctor shivered. He looked around, but no one was coming at the sound of the recording.

He looped back to the Angel Path, which was much clearer of ink. Patches of dust covered its floor, but they were disturbed enough that he couldn’t tell if anyone had been through recently.

It was narrower, but still furnished. More like a furnished hallway than an actual room.

The walls held a poster for that Lz character, Alice Angel. They also served as a backdrop for a cut-out of hers, but they held no psychic messages. Nor did the floor.

Still, there was a cassette player along the way. Surely, _one_ of them had to be useful, so the Doctor stepped over to it and checked the label: VOICE OF SUSIE CAMPBELL. He pressed play.

_Everything feels like it’s coming apart._

_When I walked into the recording booth today, Sammy was there with that… Allison._

_Apparently, I didn’t get the memo. Alice Angel will now be voiced by Miss Allison Pendle._

_A part of me died when he said that._

_There’s gotta be a way to fix this!_

The Doctor looked over both shoulders for signs of company again. His neck hairs raised, but his eyes saw no one, and his ears registered only a soft mechanical grinding. He stuck his hands in his pockets and strode down the next bit of hall, where the growing sound of gears masked his footsteps. He turned a corner and wound up in a room of toys and… what else? Ink.

He stopped his steps, eyeing thick puddles of ink in his path. Giving the walls a once-over, he spotted open utility boxes with missing gears. A wall to the side had another message behind its shelves: _WE’RE ALL HIS PLAY THINGS._

The Doctor would keep that in mind as he investigated time. For now, he leaped over a particularly thick puddle. He landed neatly, but something grabbed his ankle from behind.

His mind buzzed.

His stomach danced.

The ink had formed a corporal being. Empty eyes. Gaping mouth. Humanoid from the waist up. A half-formed trail of ink instead of legs. _YOU’VE JUST GOT TO BELIEVE._


	2. In Which Angels are Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> When the Doctor asks the TARDIS to take him on a vacation, it travels to a volatile time loop instead. The Doctor leaving would wipe out the Solar System, so he goes to investigate if just to not be directly responsible for the tragedy when he goes his way. He disembarks in Joey Drew Studios and finds evidence of the Slvsonians doing something dangerous on Earth that involves living ink and two missing people.

The Doctor kicked himself free and stepped away. “Hullo. I’m the Doctor. You are?”

The thing flexed its hands, revealing that its fingers ended in sharp points. It lunged – fingers digging into his arm hard enough to leave deep gouges.

_**IT’S TIME TO BELIEVE.** _

The Doctor choked back his lunch. His time senses screamed in his own mind.

The ink creature swiped again.

The Doctor dodged.

It lunged.

He kicked.

It lunged again.

He planted his foot in its head, and it melted back into a thick puddle. “So sorry. Come find me again when you’re ready to talk like a reasonable being. I can help you.”

The Doctor flinched when he caught the words coming out of his own mouth. So much for not getting involved.It may have been too late anyway.

He cursed the Slvsonians under his breath. Looking toward the room’s last ink puddle, he said, “What an awful fate. Created by the Slvsonians’ imagination farm and for what? To be bound to humans and turned into living cartoon characters? Or to get linked to a time loop for…? We could help each other, if any of the consciousness you gained is reasonable.”

The ink puddle didn’t respond, so he hopped over it and landed in a hall. He looked around and found relatively clear planks for the floor. In front of him was an open gate with a lever beside it. To the right was an empty niche. To the left led off to be explored.

Taking the left, the Doctor went further into the halls. At the next fork, he turned right, and nearby was a table with another audio tape. He stepped up to it and found two names: Wally Franks and Thomas Connor.

_Alright let’s go over this again. If the pressure goes over 45, I screw the safety bolt in tighter, right?_

_No! For the last time, you do that, you’ll blow every pipe in this place! If it reaches 45, you unhook the safety switch._

_You sure? You know, this sounds harder than comparing ear wax to bee’s wax!_

_Look, it’s not that difficult! Just keep an eye on the gauge!_

_Look pal, if you think I’m doing my job AND yours, I’m outta here!_

The Doctor snorted. It came out flat. “Looks like the pipes in this place _did_ blow. And then you started fighting, didn’t you?”

He moved down the hall, pressing himself to the wall avoid dripping ink and tensing when he saw a pool of the stuff in his way. “If anyone’s in there, don’t attack me.” He leaped over.

The hall broke off into a small room where he could see a pulley system behind a metal grate. He pressed his hands to it and leaned forward.

There were thick metal chains extending above and below, past what there was light to see. Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled out his screwdriver. With a bit of patience, he pulled up a clunky spigot pouring ink. It attached to a box and gears.

The Doctor could smell the ink from where he stood, and the machine gave off dizzying bursts of mental and temporal energy.

He scanned it. Pipes, psychic circuitry, and a lot of ink. No controls.

He stuck his sonic in his pocket and turned around. He continued down the hall, slowing only to glance at an inky – not psychic – message on a wall: THE CREATOR LIED TO US.

Around the next corner was a dead end, but he continued forward to examine a Little Miracle Station whose door was ripped off its hinges. Inside was another message in ink: FEEL FAMILIAR?

Black was smeared inside the hiding station itself, but the bulk of it was splattered across the door and the surrounding wall – enough that an ink being may have bled out. Or a Slvsonian. Slvsonian blood was black. The Doctor winced.

He skimmed a finger across the congealment. Echoes. Faint. Only one voice clear as static: _“...you’re innocent but you still know...”_

Unlike the others, the voice was like splinter-filled silk rather than a taser.

The Doctor gripped his sonic and scanned the gore – mostly ink, but a few nucleotides in there too – Lz. “What did you do, give it a few drops of your blood to help it along? You really ought to be careful with whose memories you pass along like that.”

As soon as he turned around, he saw it – a stone statue of Bendy. It grinned down at him from a niche above the hall.

The Doctor gulped. “Statue. Time energy. I’ve heard the stories. Please tell me you’re not….”

His eyes watered. He couldn’t hold them open.

The statue’s grin was wider than before.

He bolted. He whipped around corners and trapped himself in a dead end. There was a lever and a vent that busted through the wall. Too small for him.

Nothing for it. He turned around quickly, mentally chatting with himself about the value of keeping his eyes wide open.

No Angel.

So where’d it go?

As quietly as he could, he went to peek around the corner. There he saw, in the formerly empty alcove, the statue.

Boards creaked as the Doctor padded toward the Bendy. “Why didn’t you attack me? Sated? Plotting something? Or are you…?”

He stopped an arm’s length away from Bendy and stared at him for a moment.

He blinked.

When he opened his eyes, he was still in front of the statue. Machines still ground in the monochrome studio.

The Doctor put a hand on the statue’s round stomach. It tickled his mind and sipped milliseconds off his life, so he reached for his screwdriver. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. I hope you don’t mind if I take a look at you. I won’t hurt you. Well, as long as you don’t give me reason to. It’s just… I’ve never actually seen one of your kind before."

A scan revealed a hollow stomach with psychic ink inside it. And there was something else closed in there too – something thin and organic – but the ink’s interference prevented him from getting a better reading.

The Doctor blinked again. Still nothing happened.

He grinned at the Angel. “Your people have a bad rep, but that can’t be your whole species, can it? I’m a Time Lord, and I like to think I’m an exception too. Sorry I have to put a stop to this time loop.”

He blinked, and once again, nothing happened. He pretended not to have goosebumps as he walked through the open gate.

On the other side was an elevated walkway that ran around a corner, past two restrooms, and down to a room that had a lift shaft in one spot and an open door on one wall. He looked over his shoulder for the Angel.

Nothing. He allowed himself to relax.

At least momentarily – in the room he counted _two_ Little Miracle Stations. There was also a psychic message by the shaft that had him grimacing: _WE ALWAYS FALL._

When he checked on the lift, its gate opened, but it never came. He pulled on its chains and found that they ended in a severed link. He peered down into the darkness. “Hello?”

He was greeted by his own echo.

He stepped away and turned toward the open door, which was labeled LEVEL K. Through it, he could see another psychic message: the word _DOWN_ and an arrow pointing that direction.

As he wound down the staircase, he found things that most humans wouldn’t think to put in a stairwell: desks, shelves, bacon soup…. He found more words as well. _WAY_ read a psychic message. _ON_ another one.

A choppy, off-tune whistling wheezed from a landing below.

“Hello?” the Doctor called.

The whistling stopped.

He creaked down the staircase, but there was only a large ink puddle. He grimaced, backtracked past the overlooked _THE_ , and didn’t return until he had a clean plank in hand.

When he did, the puddle was gone.

Glancing around showed him crates, cobwebs, and a toilet. No people. “I don’t mean you any harm. I’m just looking for someone who can tell me what’s going on here.”

Only the background thrumming of gears answered him.

He continued down, keeping his eyes on the ink and the messages. At one point, he stepped over a pile of musical instruments. He also found a radio and a message _HOW COULD ONE RESIST THIS?_ Oddly, he also passed a flight of stairs that led down from the main flight of stairs.

After he’d gone far enough down to string together the message – _BE KIND TO PEOPLE YOU MEET ON THE WAY UP BECAUSE YOU’LL MEET THE SAME PEOPLE ON THE WAY DOWN_ – he climbed to investigate the off-shoot staircase.

The Doctor found a room at the bottom of the off-shoot stairs. In the room was a table with a cassette player on it, labeled as containing the voice of Henry. Brow raising, the Doctor picked it up and pressed play.

_Only two weeks into this company and already it’s gotten interesting. Joey is a man of ideas… And only ideas._

_When I agreed to start this whole thing with him I thought there would be a little more give and take. Instead I give, and he takes. I haven’t seen Linda for days now._

Up the stairs and around the corner, something creaked. The Doctor glanced over his shoulder.

Nothing yet. He stepped sideways and pressed himself against a wall.

_Still, someone has to make this happen. When in doubt, just keep drawing Henry._

_On the plus side, I’ve got a new character I think people are going to love._

The Doctor blinked. When his eyes opened, there was a shadow on his face. He turned his head.

A Weeping Angel was grinning at him, still in the form of Bendy.

The Doctor pointed to the cassette player. “Henry co-founded this studio and created Bendy, didn’t he? Do you know what he and Joey were trying to do here?”

He blinked.

_Only two weeks into this company, and already it’s gotten interesting…._

The Angel was sitting in the corner, grinning at the cassette player in its hands. A small Bendy plushy sat on its leg, its pie-cut eyes staring at the Doctor through its thick black stitches.

“Or maybe you’re looking into it too.” The Doctor backed away from the Angel. He creaked up the stairs and onto Level 11, which was just below Level K.

He looked around and found a Little Miracle Station and – yuck – a hallway flooded with ink. Grumbling to himself, he went back to pull the stairwell’s door off its hinges. He soniced the knob itself off and used the door as an awkward skim board, moving forward by grabbing the walls.

A flat two-horned head and pie-cut eyes peeked out around the next corner. It looked part of a battered Bendy cut-out that someone had to be holding up.

“Hello?” he called.

The face disappeared.

He pressed the board forward faster and reached the end of the flood in two seconds. He stepped onto a small wooden platform with a door and a window into a small empty room. Not even a cut-out. “Where’d you go?”

He stepped into the room to investigate. There was another door – locked. He soniced the lock itself, but there was just a closet on the other side. No secret doors or passageways – just an ordinary break room. Well, an ordinary toonish break room in sepia tone with a psychic message next to the vending machine: _THE DRINKS WERE ON JOEY._

He shook his head.

His neck hairs tingled as he returned to the stairs and walked to the next level, P. There was a soft click from the room with Henry’s recording, and the hairs jolted. There had to be eyes on the back of his neck.

Squeak!

The Doctor turned.

The Weeping Angel was grinning at him and holding its demonic plushy.

“You should play Fugitive with a bunch of teenagers sometime. I’m sure they’d appreciate the nightmares.” The Doctor separated himself from the Angel with the stairwell door.

* * *

_The Doctor pays no mind to how he looks with his matted hair and his ink-stained suit as he dashes from his TARDIS. He crosses the crimson moss to grab a blond Lz by his collar. “Two weeks ago, you executed a man touched by the Weeping Angels. Where did he appear?”_

_The Lz stiffens. “No more off-worlders!”_

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

_The Doctor drops the Lz the moment he sees the firing squad off to the left, weapons trained on him._

* * *

Level P had some observation rooms and some empty boxes next to sets of valves. On a wall was an inky message: I DON’T WANT TO WORK HERE ANYMORE.

“I’ll bet,” the Doctor replied.

As he went to examine the valves, a speaker squeaked from inside an observation room. A legion of voices poured from it: “Down by the ink-pier’s mournful lake was malice shown by our Lord fake. But on this day….”

The Doctor slowed, keeping an ear on the voices.

“Rejoice, my flock! A flashing dream: a new savior – one with no team who’s yet a policeman of love descended from the stars above.”

He stopped in his tracks. A policeman? Stars?

“As Saint Michael his dragon slays, Pinstripes will our demon erase.”

The Doctor turned toward the speaker. “What?”

“We have hope of freedom again. And now… can I get an amen?” The speaker crackled off.

“What?” The Doctor’s voice climbed in pitch. “What? No! No, I won’t. I’m not killing anyone for you! I’m here to end the time loop, and that’s _it._ ”

He got no answer.

The Doctor tugged on his hair. “Great. Just what I needed – a bunch of cultists telling me I have to save them by killing the aliens.”

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, stepping forward to examine a set of valves instead. As he did so, a psychic message caught his eye: _WHY AM I DOING THIS?_

He searched, but Level P had nothing of true interest. He calmed his hearts and steadied his furious breathing as he returned to the stairs. All was as quiet as it should have been.

Just a bit more color and this place would be cheery really.

He entered Level 9, which had a balcony that ran around a main floor and a gate with a large image of Alice Angel and the slogan _SHE’S QUITE A GAL._ On the balcony was a doorway with chopped-up boards lying in front, some nails still in the frame as though it had been boarded up. Someone with an ax must have been in there, but stepping inside, the Doctor could see nothing chopped up. What there was was a desk, a chair, and another recording: a Grant Cohen’s.

_They say the real problem with Mr Drew is that he never actually tells us little people anything._

_Oh sure, according to him there’s always big stuff coming, adventure and fame and the like._

_But I’m the guy, see, who has to make sure our budgets don’t go all out of whack just cause genius upstairs went out and got himself another idea. Speaking of which, and this is top secret, apparently Mr. Drew has another large project in mind now.. and it ain’t gonna be cheap._

The recording clicked off.

The Doctor stood there a moment, hands in his pockets. His eyes scanned the room for any more hints. Records maybe? A filing cabinet?

Crates.... Books covered in cobwebs… He swept aside the sticky webs and blew dust off the titles. There were business guides and an old phone book, but no records. The desk drawers held only an empty fountain pen and a motionless limbed inkwell itself made of ink.

The Doctor shuddered past the Weeping Angel on his way out of the small office. He hushed down the stairs, where he found yet another recording on some shelves: another of Thomas Connor’s. This one complained about Joey Drew neglecting elevator maintenance.

He kept looking around, crossing a bridge, climbing some stairs, and sonicing open the gate. Inside was an ink-stenched hallway that led to corpses. Cartoon corpses. Put up on display with their chests ripped open!

Directly in front of him, that was Boris the Wolf. Over there was also Boris and Wolf. And Boris the Wolf. And clones of more characters he didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

They hung in cages from the ceiling, or else they were strapped to tables stood upright in a flood of ink.

The Doctor made his way to the first Boris clone, one that was displayed before the ink began. Ink. The corpse too was made of ink.

There were already narrow boards placed on thick barrels to serve as walkways. He watched his step.

His eyes caught on more corpses floating rather than strapped to anything. And there! Over there, yellow wood blending in with the yellow wall, that was different. That wasn’t a corpse directly on display at least. That was a coffin.

 _SUSIE_ , according to Henry’s psyche.

Out came the Doctor’s screwdriver. He aimed it at the wood and – it whined. Scowling, he put it back in his pocket. “I’m going to regret this.”

He mustered what mental shields he could and stepped into the ink. He sunk waist-deep, and he could still hear the buzzing and screaming – muffled – but he heard it. He swallowed rising bile, sludged his way to the coffin, and pried it open.

The smell hit his nose immediately. Inside, yep. Those were human remains. Just the hair, the clothes, and the skeleton left really. Adult. Female.

He shoved the coffin door shut and took a moment to keep his lunch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He took a breath.

“...him to his death?”

He turned. Coming through the door were two more cartoon characters. Both were armed – a shapely Alice with a blade, and a metal-armed Boris with an ax. Their eyes cut through the room as they light-footed into it. Alice, the Doctor noted, had a halo, not unlike the display that the Lz had when using their psychic abilities, only not – the halo was another Pnetiiy overlay.

Boris slapped his ax into his palm.

No other place to hide, the Doctor slipped behind Susie’s coffin and low into the ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> HE CAN'T BE SAVED.
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> I don’t own Doctor Who or Bendy and the Ink Machine.


	3. In Which He's Never Been So Vicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> The Doctor has to defend himself against an ink being and blurts out an offer to help it. He worries that ending the time loop might kill that form of life. Just after he discovers traces of Slvsonian blood near the destroyed Little Miracle Station, he sees a Weeping Angel watching him.
> 
> As the Doctor explores the floors, both the Angel and a so-called prophet keep an eye on him, the latter leaving to broadcast a prophesy about the Doctor killing Bendy.
> 
> When he reaches the flooded morgue, he peeks inside Susie Campbell’s coffin and then hides from two Toons coming in….
> 
> In another time, the Doctor visits Slvson 8.

The Doctor kept his eyes on the inky duo.

The two held their weapons at the ready as they approached the planks. Alice continued speaking, not missing a beat. “I know, but it’s our fault he can’t run.”

Boris twitched his nose.

Alice sighed. “We don’t know why he did that. Did you see him crying after? And then she turned on him.He looked too grief-stricken to even try running from her if you ask me.”

They were past the Doctor now, rounding the walkway toward a solid, non-flooded platform through which was a gate. The Doctor didn’t see what Boris did, but he must have replied.

Alice stepped off of the boards and glanced back at her partner. “Perhaps you’re right. I just don’t like to think what the Ink Demon might do to anyone he comes across right now. I’ve never seen him quite this vicious before.”

Boris was doing a careful little wave with his ax as the gate closed behind the two.

The Doctor swam out from behind Susie’s coffin and pulled himself onto a small platform with a desk. He inhaled, reveling in how much clearer his mind was now that he was out of the ink.

Something scuttled near the entrance.

He shot up.

There was a Weeping Angel standing by a dead Boris and grinning at him.

“Again with the heart attack!” he whispered.

Seeing as how the thing hadn’t harmed him thus far, he chanced taking his eyes off it to get a feel of his surroundings. The nearby desk held an audio recording.

Eyes darting toward the gate where the two armed Toons were, he pocketed the cassette player instead.

He took a quick look around the rest of the room and only found a message from – probably – Henry: _DID THEY DESERVE THIS?_

The Angel was gone when he left. A shiver coated his skin – what was it keeping tabs on him for?

He waited until he’d back-tracked as far as the stairs to the lift before he listened to Susie’s cassette.

_Who would have thought? Me having lunch with Joey Drew! Apparently times are tougher than I thought. For a moment there, I thought I’d be stuck with the check. But I gotta say, he wasn’t at all what I expected. Quite the charmer. He even called me Alice._

_I liked it._

He tossed the cassette player against a wall. “Stop it!” he told himself. “You can’t get involved, remember?”

Around the walkway he could see several doors he hadn’t tried and he hurried to check them all. It took unlocking several doors with his sonic – mostly closets – before he found the next staircase. He took it down and found an ink pool at the bottom of a ladder, along with a pump switch. At least there was a pump switch.

He waited for the ink to drain before he opened the trap door to Level 14. The pump mostly did the job, but there was still a rather large puddle in front of the door. He carefully stepped around it and navigated around a staircase that appeared to lead only toward the lift.

There were more dead cartoon clones down here, littering the floor. These were missing their hearts, but at least they weren’t put up on display like the ones upstairs. Instead, their bodies lay like rag dolls in a child’s untidy bedroom.

On one side of the room, a cassette player sat atop a crate. He glared at it. So far, only the joint recording between Wally Franks and Thomas Connor contained a possible hint at how to break the time loop, but what if this one did too? He checked the label – Norman Polk – and hit play.

_Now I’m not lookin’ for trouble. It’s just the nature of us projectionists to seek out the dark places._

_You see, I’ve learned the ins and outs of this here studio. I know how to avoid being bothered by the likes of this… company._

_That projectionist, they always say, creeping around, he’s just looking for trouble. Well trouble or not, I sees everything. They don’t even know when I’m watchin’._

“What did you see?” the Doctor whispered.

_Even when I’m right behind them._

Behind the Doctor, something rustled. He spun around.

The Angel was with him again. It stood against the wall, a knocked-over board beside it.

“Why are you following me?”

He blinked.

The Angel was a few feet closer, grinning.

He backed away. “Fine. At least tell me where Norman Polk is.”

When he blinked, the Angel was in the back of the room, between two hall entrances.

He went to explore, starting with the left hall. There was a hall on either side – dark, but not totally so. Patches of light shone on the walls with clips of the studio’s cartoons on them. That one there had Bendy pulling a sheet over his head to disguise himself as a ghost. That one there had Boris eating a carrot while Bendy cried, a puddle with stick arms and button eyes beside the demon. And that one there had Bendy hiding behind a tombstone.

He looked over his shoulder. The Weeping Angel was peeking around the corner.

He shuffled through the hall, which was narrow and had sharp turns. Dead clones lay on these floors too, and Little Miracle Stations hid within the maze.

Anything else? Yes! Over there – a message from Henry. _FRIEND OR FOE?_

The Doctor tried to walk toward that one, but he tripped. He got to his knees and turned to look at what he’d just fallen on.

There was an inky corpse there. A larger one. More human-portioned than the various characters scattered around. It had a speaker in its chest and a projector for its head. Whoever it was bore gashes as though inflicted by an ax.

“A projectionist….” he mumbled. “A Projectionist. Norman Polk?”

He got to his feet, shivering.

Keeping his eyes peeled for any more clues, the Doctor twisted around the remaining corners and out of the maze.

The room was empty as before. No, emptier.

He glanced over his shoulder. No Weeping Angel there either.Back to the stairs.

He was halfway back when he heard the noise from the workshop: _Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump._ Like the pounding of a human heart.

Then came the ink – veins of it, covering every surface. At least this stuff wasn’t buzzing or screaming, although it did contain a scrap of memory: “... _your father’s so brilliant an engineer?_ _We know_ _he’s from….”_

“What’s this?”

The veins radiated from near the stairs, and curiosity spurred the Doctor to take a closer look. They were originating from the puddle.

In under a second, an ink being sprung eight feet high from that puddle. It was a Bendy. A very deformed Bendy with a twisted leg, skeletal frame, and dripping ink covering his face except for one painted-on toothy grin. One hand was like a swollen cartoon’s. The other more like a human’s. Or a Slvsonian’s.

The Bendy peered at the Doctor, looking up and down his pinstripes.

The Doctor put on his friendliest smile. “Don’t worry about what that nut said – I’m not here to kill anyone. My name’s the Doctor. What’s yours?”

Bendy growled and pulled the ink into himself. He grew. His horns jiggled. His arms hulked. His twisted leg resolved into a half-formed one. His mouth opened and real teeth replaced the painted-on ones.

Bendy roared.

The Doctor sprinted the opposite way. Little Miracle Station?

He dropped to the floor as Bendy lunged for his head.

The beast went flying toward the maze entrance. He smashed into a wall, which splintered a section away.

Okay, new direction. The Doctor spun and ran up the stairs toward the defunct elevator.

Bendy was barreling toward him, but the stairs twisted around.

The first time, Bendy hit the railing, broke through, and tumbled back to the floor. He roared. His thundering footsteps told the Doctor he didn’t have long until Bendy was back with him.

He took the last few steps and slammed his fist against the call button. Come on. Open up, open up, open up….

It opened as Bendy was on the stairs, rounding onto the last stretch.

The drop was still quite far, but the Doctor had better odds of surviving it than surviving this Bendy. He threw himself down the shaft.

Time slowed. Not really, but he understood the illusion. His hearts pounded madly as he cut through the air. It battered his hair and his exposed skin. And the shaft was dark. He could see nothing.

And then he could.

Ring! He landed atop a metal roof. There he lay, stunned.

Something heavy landed on his back.

Did Bendy follow him?

He pulled an old Time Lord trick – hold his breath, slow his hearts, and play dead.

Bendy roared. He grabbed the Doctor’s ankle. He threw him into a wall.

The Doctor’s head cracked.

The world spun. Or the room. Because of course the world spun. Haha. Spinning room.

Something cold was on his neck, taking his pulse. Felt like fingers. Inky fingers.

Oh, very nice teeth! There was a mouthful of very nice teeth in his face. The breath was rancid. Inky.

_Grrr….._

Bendy grabbed his ankle again. He shook him.

The cartoon stopped growling.

Or the Doctor thought he stopped growling. All the sounds were fading. All the sights dimming.

Bendy tossed him up. His back hit the ceiling. Everything faded faster.

The Doctor was propped against something hard, cool, smooth….

* * *

_The Doctor slams into a lever-covered panel. “Oi! Watch the TARDIS!”_

“ _Now they know! They’re going to have to stay in your filthy ship, aren’t they?” A balding brunet with little white horns sits himself back in his wheelchair. He harrumphs. “I told you this was a bad idea. Time travel is a capital offense on Slvson 8.”_

“ _You’d know.” The Doctor’s brown eyes fix on the Lz’s._

_He slugs the Doctor’s arm._

* * *

When the Doctor woke up, he noticed the wrecked cage of an elevator on his left. He started to push himself to his feet and went straight back down, clenching his teeth.

Oh, his ribs were on _fire!_ And how his head _throbbed!_ No, no, that was fine. He’d be okay, really. He just needed a few minutes.

He closed his eyes and took stock of himself. All limbs still attached. No bones actually broken – but there was some nasty bruising and a lump on his head. “So that was the Ink Demon.”

He groaned. He took slow breaths that made his ribs throb and finished his assessment.

He was injured, but his injuries weren’t all: he was missing some time energy. Nothing significant, but half an hour off the end of his life, just gone.

As his head cleared, he registered that he was leaning against something hard. He looked up. There was the Weeping Angel. That explained the missing time at least. “Hello, again. Mind not feeding on me right now? I’m not in the best shape.”

He closed his eyes again for a moment. He just needed to give his hormones a kick to relieve some of his pain. Just a bit more. Yeah, that did it. He could still feel aches all over, but nothing burned as he got to his feet.

He looked inside the elevator. No bodies, but that was one large ink stain in the back.

Shambling into the hallway, he caught sight of another of Henry’s messages: _HE CAN’T BE SAVED._ Pushing the thoughts it conjured aside, the Doctor stumbled to the end of the hall, where a sign informed him of the two directions he could go: he could go to Grant Cohen’s management office, or he could go to the archives and R&D.

On his next step, pain jolted up his leg. He winced. Oh, he really did need a bit more rest. That office would have a chair, and being accounting, quite possibly some information on that machine too. A hint at the size or materials in the cost breakdowns at least.

The moment he entered the office, he stared. He’d expected to find written information here, and he’d seen writing on the studio’s walls before, but not like this. It might as well have been a wallpaper, and some was on the floor too. Where there was actual flooring, that was – half the office kept the natural rocky, uneven ground.

At least he was right about that chair, and there on the desk was an audio log.

The Doctor sat down and gave the tape a listen. He rested his eyes.

_Gurgle. Gurgle. Gargle. Yelp. Gurgle…._

His eyes snapped open. This was… Whose tape was this? The label could only confirm that it was unknown, and there was nothing else to indicate it wasn’t Grant Cohen’s.

The Doctor forced himself to change focus, instead reading the walls and floors as he finished recovering. Well, as he finished recovering enough to move around again. He didn’t think he’d really last long if he was far from one of those Little Miracle Stations and a hostile ink form found him.

IT DOESN’T ADD UP, said one spot of the wall. WHAT WILL JOEY SAY? asked another. The rest of the messages were along the same lines.

He shifted and his back pounded. “Stupid inky demon. Inky – that’s what I’ll call him.”

For a moment, he relived Inky slamming him against the walls.

His eyes shot open and he eyed the doorway nervously. Inky was the one to prop him up against the Weeping Angel. Was Inky trying to feed him to it? Well, feed it did.

He got up and moved.

No Angel in the corridor. Not yet.

He saw it again the moment he entered the archives.

The Angel starred on a large podium. Soft, warped music tinkled. A banner overhead read _HE WILL SET US FREE._

“Will he?” the Doctor snapped. “Will he really?”

The Angel’s grin was fixed.

The Doctor strode to the left. He blinked.

The Angel had turned its head toward him.

“Set everyone free from the state of _living’s_ more like it.” The Doctor pointed his finger at the statue. “Have no illusions, Angel. _I_ will free these people of the time loop, and there’s nothing you or Inky can do to stop me!”

He stepped around the podium. He held his eyelids open with his fingers.

He blinked anyway.

The Weeping Angel had spun around. It was frowning now. Its teeth still showed.

The Doctor pressed his back to the bookshelves. He stepped into the next room, heart pounding.

No Angel.

He could see a cassette player in the corner of his eye. Past those shelves. In the middle area.

He had to go through the door to escape the Angel, but he might need that tape.

He blinked.

No Angel. What was that predator playing at?It and Inky both.

He risked a glance around. In the middle section were some desks, a round table with the cassette player on it, and a Bendy cut-out.

He moved to the table first. It had Susie Campbell’s tape. It went into his pocket.

* * *

_They told me I was perfect for the role. Absolutely perfect. Now Joey’s going around saying things behind closed doors. I can always tell._

_Now he wants to meet again tomorrow, says he has an “opportunity” for me. I’ll hear him out. But if that smooth talker thinks he can double cross me and get away with it, well, oh he’s got another thing coming._

_Alice, ooh, she doesn’t like liars._

The Doctor tossed Susie’s recording into the chasm beside him. It hit a cage hung from far above

Breathing deeply through his nose, the Doctor shoved his fists into his pockets.

He took a step on the rickety old wooden staircase, eyeing its floating structure warily. “Mystery, danger, not a single good guy around,” he grumbled. “Why does this always happen to me?”

The wood held his weight, so he kept moving, carefully avoiding slick, doubtlessly-screaming ink. His eyes caught on a Bendy cut-out stuck in the wall. “No, of course there are good guys here – in the cartoons – the _actual_ cartoons themselves.”

As he got closer, he spotted a second one, stuck in the floor. Why there? He set a hand on the first Bendy to pull it from the wall.

Something sipped at his time energy and tickled his mind. It felt exactly like…. His eyes went wide. “The image of an Angel is itself an Angel, but this isn’t exactly an Angel’s true form.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> A dance and a show.
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> I don’t own Doctor Who or Bendy and the Ink Machine.


	4. In Which Demons Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Time:
> 
> The Doctor investigates Level 14 and gets attacked by the Ink Demon. He flees to Level S, where the demon beats him up and hands him to a Weeping Angel.
> 
> As he recovers, he nicknames the Ink Demon Inky and figures that whatever the Weeping Angels are up to, Inky’s involved as well. He finds that the cut-outs are also Weeping Angels.

_The Doctor rubs his arms. “Calm down! I didn’t mean anything by it!”_

“ _Then why’d you say it, you doofus?”_

“ _I didn’t mean anything bad that is.” The Doctor dodges a slap. Joey’s hand hit the lights instead._

_The TARDIS darkens. “He was not a criminal!”_

“ _The Slvsonian idiots out there think otherwise. Victim blaming in its finest.”_

_The alien narrows his eyes. “We’re not all idiots, you know.”_

_The Doctor turns his back. “Blimey! How does anyone put up with you? I’m here doing you a favor, and this is the thanks I get?”_

* * *

The Doctor pulled his hand back and stared at the cut-out. He blinked, but the cut-out didn’t move. “How’s this for an explanation? No one knows where your race comes from. It’s commonly thought that you’re as old as time itself – or very nearly – but it might not be true. What if your race comes from right here, right now? You’re a brand new species. Haven’t learned how to hunt for your prey yet. Still evolving. Or still being designed, thanks to your friend Inky. Don’t have your familiar forms either. Weeping Angels. Ha! You lot are originally demons.”

He felt the hair raising on the back of his neck. “Or do you become what you do because of me?”

The Doctor gripped the cut-outs and eased them out. He leaned them against the cavern walls. “Time is looping, so this isn’t a fixed point. You don’t have to be anything. Can I help you be good instead?”

He’d just yelled at a stone Angel in the other room. He went back and found it in the center of the bookshelves, looking at the cardboard Angel in there. No, there were multiple cut-outs now – three of them.

“I guess it’s a myth that you turn to stone – or cardboard, as the case may be – in the sight of _any_ living creature. You’re immune to yourselves, aren’t you?” He took a step closer and heard a loud SQUEAK!

He looked down. His foot was on one of the Bendy plushies…. a child’s toy.

When he looked up, they’d all turned to look at him.

He sighed, stepped around the table, and placed a hand on the stone Angel’s shoulder. “Look. I’m worried because something bad is going on here. The people are suffering, and if the time loop isn’t stopped, _everyone_ is going to die. Maybe even you. I know you need time energy, and you’ve got as much right to that as we all have to life. I will help you, so try to be good.”

The Angel tickled at his mind. The Doctor smiled back.

* * *

The Doctor returned to the cavern and climbed until he reached a natural ledge on which were the controls for a cable car and another sort of machine. He examined the controls first. It was missing a gear.

He examined the other machine next. It was small, yellow, metallic. It had an input tray and an output tray – the latter covered with a panel that said GENT. On one side was a lever. On the other was a dial with a cup, a gear, a radio, and a bone. He examined its insides with his sonic and found wires and psychic energy.

The cut-outs crowded in.

“The machine’s of Slvsonian design,” he told them. “Adapted by humans, I’d say. Very clever. I’m going to need thick ink for this, which is not going to be pleasant.”

He nodded to a tunnel that led into the ground. “I’m going to guess it’s somewhere in there.”

When he walked in and around the corner, he found a lever and a valve that indeed allowed him to collect thick ink – off the back of a living being. “Sorry about this. Unless this helps you, that is. In that case, you’re welcome.” He grabbed a round growth off the being’s back and it plopped back into the ink.

The ink in his hand was easier to touch – the buzzing and screaming were in the background. He carried it back to the GENT machine and put it in the tray. He selected the gear option and pulled the lever.

The output rolled out in a large ball, which then reshaped itself into a radio.

One of the cut-outs was leaning against the dial.

As the Doctor blinked, music started playing – a chiming xylophone with bouncy brass for its bass.

The cut-outs started hopping and spinning.

He stared. “You’re not quantum-locked at all!”

Both cut-outs spun toward him. They hopped up and down.

“But then, why have all the others been moving only when I blink? Is this unique to your cardboard forms?”

They kept hopping, hopping faster as the music transitioned into a bouncier part. One hopped from one foot to the other.

The Doctor smiled as he watched them. “Right, you might not be able to answer. Me, I’ve got to get a move on. I need that gear. You two dancing demons just stay here and enjoy your music, alright?”

Even as he spoke, one of the cut-outs zipped off and retrieved some ink. The other reset the dial to create a gear, and in no time, a ball was changing itself into the part the Doctor needed. “Thanks.”

He replaced the missing part and rode across the abyss. Then it was into a mine through a dilapidated corridor and onto another winding staircase.

He took a peek at what was downstairs first. There was an unreachable door with Henry’s guess of _EXIT?_

The Doctor switched gears to go up the stairs now. He passed a poster for one of Alice Angel’s episodes. Here, Henry commented _SHE’S TOYING WITH YOU._

The Doctor forced himself not to think about that.

Soon afterward, he met a roomful of non-hostile ink people. They stood in a group, shying away from the Doctor and, if able to answer his questions, then unwilling. They had an inky message on their walls – NO ANGELS. HE WILL SET US FREE.

The Doctor shook his head as he peered into an open vent – seemed to be the only other way in or out of the room.

Using his screwdriver as a light, he explored. He found rooms and cut-outs, but nothing that helped him until he crawled into a room that had a flashlight by the vent’s exit. He looked around carefully. There was an open door, and there were also stairs, a sign directing him to come up and see “me,” and a work space covered by a dome shaped like Bendy’s head. No one in sight though.

The Doctor crept up the stairs first, which was difficult as the boards kept creaking. At the top were sketches, blueprints, and models for an amusement park. Apparently, a very relevant amusement park, as Henry’s psyche had written _REGRETS, JOEY?_

The table also held an audio recording from one Bertrum Piedmont – apparently, a big-shot engineer who Joey Drew hired to build an amusement park.

He drummed his fingers against the table. “Well, _Bertie,_ are you human, or alien? Someone has to be responsible for time. It’s you or the studio founders.”

* * *

_The Doctor squeezes past the wheelchair. “You stay here with all of them. And whatever you do, don’t touch anything.”_

_Rubber wheels whir behind him. “I’m coming. Do you_ want _a repeat of my breakdown? I need my own memories of this place, d-”_

“ _Shut. Up.” The Doctor glares over his shoulder. “I should never have let you inside my TARDIS. Thanks. For your father’s memories.”_

_Joey sets his hands in his lap. He hangs his head._

_The Doctor humphs and strides outside._

_The TARDIS is surrounded by Lzs and Pnetiiys with guns._

“ _Off our planet, human.”_

_The Doctor opens his mouth. The edge of Joey’s wheelchair hits his leg, and he tumbles into the alien’s lap._

“ _Can’t we be reasonable?” The brunnet is smirking. “There’s a Weeping Angel on the loose. It sent my father to the past. Since I was causing trouble on his planet, he’s simply returning me to a time I can legally be here and catching the Angel. I can escort him, if it makes you feel better.”_

_The locals lower their guns._

_The Doctor glares at the Lz anyway. “What do you think would happen in your studio’s recent past if we alter-”_

_BANG!_

_The Doctor’s hands fly to his ink-stained chest._

* * *

The Doctor walked down the stairs and poked his head into Storage 9. Directly in front of him was a vandalized sign for Bendy Land, or _Bendy Hell_ , as it now read. It was filled with shelves and crates. He could see a cage sitting on top of stacked-up bags, several carnival game stalls, and trash cans with Bendy’s head as the cover. All this could be seen from the overhead walkway that the Doctor was now entering. He turned left and took the stairs down.

He noted a Little Miracle Station nearby, but a fresh inky message under the stairs got more of his attention:

_ONE IMMORTAL LITTLE DEMON_

_WITH THREE COFFEE MUGS A-STEAMIN’_

Then, there was an arrow pointing to the rhyme and asking how it ended.

A quick look around the main warehouse gave him another recording and a puzzle to open the doors in case they closed on him, not that he couldn’t just use his screwdriver. He passed a booth for Bull’s Eye Bonanza – a stand with a broken side and nothing but targets and – ugh – a _gun,_ and poked his head inside a room where three Bendy costumes were stored. And where Henry had a thought, apparently.

_RELIVING THE PAST DOES NOT CHANGE IT._

In another room, the Doctor found a park ride with its arms broken off, a blank cassette, and more messages from Henry – although these most likely about the broken ride. There was an ax there too – broken.

He moved on to Research And Development. There was life inside! The Doctor was looking down into a room with some barrels and two halls, with an elevated walkway on the sides that led to other doors. Down below three little cartoons – living versions of the ones he’d seen left slaughtered upstairs – were struggling to set up a projector and reel in front of a portable screen and speaker system.

“Finally, some Toons who might be _harmless._ ” A bit deformed, sure, but harmless. The Doctor walked toward the stairs and caught their intended appearance off a poster on the way: “Demonic Tonic.”

The poster showed Bendy inside a bottle, being peered down at by an insect with big white lips, a sailor with an eye patch and a white beard, and some sort of humanoid thing with a wet nose and a balding head.It pained him to see what they looked like now – he hoped it wasn’t as awful to live as as it looked. The insect had two of its arms combined into one, with one eyeball replacing a pie-cut eye, its true mouth sewn shut, and a second mouth atop its head. The sailor had a long, hollow nose and his head was dangling from a fishing pole. The humanoid thing was missing an eye and had a plunger for a leg.

He sauntered down the stairs and caught the projector just as the insect was dropping it. “Easy there, hate for movie night to be over that easily.” The Doctor set the projector on the stand and powered it up. It shone its blank reel-less light, and he adjusted it until it fit the screen. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

He checked the speakers with his sonic and found they were set up properly.

He grinned at the clones, who shuffled closer together. Stretching, he asked, “Any of you happen to know anything about a time loop?”

The cartoons blinked.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. You happen to see anyone non-inky or -stony or -cardboardy running around – well, besides me of course?”

They blinked again. That was fine. The Doctor got the feeling that they couldn’t speak even if they had known. “Right. Let’s get your show started, shall we?” He took the reel from the humanoid’s hand – their “Demonic Tonic” episode – and loaded it into the projector. The screen went black with the title card, and an upbeat whistling came from the speakers. “There you go, fellas. Enjoy!”

He explored the rest of the downstairs. One hall wasn’t particularly interesting – just a lever – but what did it do? The other – oh, yes. He heard a sobbing as he walked through and easily located one of that same type of humanoid ink being as in the no-angels lobby, locked behind bars and sitting in a corner. And at the bottom of the cage, another psychic message: _PLEASE DON’T CRY._

The Doctor cleared his throat and called out to the sobbing being softly, but he couldn’t get a response. There wasn’t really anything for his sonic to unlock either, so he stuck his hands in his pocket and shuffled into a room with what was clearly a workbench, where a robot – one that was supposed to be Bendy, judging by the teeth and half the face – lay in two in the corner, its left arm torn out and missing. It probably ended up on that Boris upstairs.

A cassette player lay on the table, and a crate sat next to the Bendy, on which Henry had left a message. _IT NEVER MOVES._

He moved over to the cassette player and listened to a message from a Lacie Benton, who was apparently frightened of the unfinished robot. He glanced at the animatronic, then again at the message about it not moving.

He turned around and saw a small puddle of ink in the corner on his way out – as though someone were severely injured there, but there was not enough ink for the puddle itself to be like that crawling thing from earlier. Hestopped by the cage on his way back out to the walkway and wrapped his fingers in the metal that separated him from the poor soul sobbing their eyes out. “Lacie?” he called softly, but there was again no response. “Are you Lacie? You’re scared of the robotic demon, aren’t you? You don’t have to worry about that – I have it on reasonable authority that it never moves. Anyone else ever tell you?”

Lacie – if that was her – only kept sobbing.

Hands in his pockets, he passed the cartoon episode’s flickering light and went to explore upstairs. Just a bunch of closets and empty soup cans. And one message of Henry’s: DREAM TO BIG AND YOU WILL FAIL.

Frowning, the Doctor went to the last room he could check before the haunted house: attraction storage. The first thing that caught his eye on as he approached was the broken bent thick metal vault door. The next thing was ink – twice. Once on the wall: _CHOO CHOO_ , and once as a drag mark leading away from a damaged projector and toward a wall. As soon as he stepped through the door, he noticed two more things: first, that there was a Little Miracle Station _right there!_ Second that Henry’s psyche had drawn a door on the otherwise empty yellowing wooden wall the drag marks led to.

The Doctor opened the Little Miracle Station and felt around inside. As before, just the bench. He closed the cabinet again.

Next he checked Henry’s door out with his screwdriver, which told him it was wood. Just wood. If there had been anything more to it, well, his sonic didn’t do wood. He traced his fingers along the door’s contours and knob, but it was still just wood. Smooth, if slightly molding wood. Yuck. He wiped his fingers on his ink-ruined suit.

Just past the crime scene was a set of stairs down into a large room flooded with ink. He could see a train down in there. A non-operational train. He eyed its smooth sides and pie-eyed front, but there was no sign of alien technology from where he stood.

He stepped back into the main warehouse and stopped at the nearest shelves, which were empty. They were held were held together by nails – easy enough to sonic out.

After only two shelves, he heard a distinctive _thu-thump, thu-thump._ Inky tendrils were spreading over the park entrance.

He pressed himself to the cold floor and peered around the shelves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Hide and seek.


	5. In Which the Shepherds Must Search for the Sheep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> The Doctor worries about his role in creating the terrifying predators known as the Weeping Angels and decides to alter history. He even gets to see the cut-outs dancing.
> 
> Meanwhile, the future Doctor cautions Joey about what might happen back in the present if they alter past/future events….
> 
> The present Doctor helps the Butcher Gang, finds a crime scene, and notices tells of the Ink Demon approaching.

Inky limped into Storage 9 and down the stairs. He stepped into the costume closet. His ink remained in the other half of the warehouse.

The Doctor held his breath.

Across the room, the Butcher Gang ran from R&D into the haunted house ride instead.

Inky limped out again. He crossed the room into the broken ride’s final resting place.

As quietly as he could, the Doctor picked up his shelves and slipped down to the flooded basement. He propped the boards against the wall and peeked over his shoulder.

No Inky yet. Doubtless, he’d be able to work out to look in the Little Miracle Station just up there too.

Might as well.

He lay the first board.

Clang!

It came from the other room. Something shrieked.

“Can I at least reach the stairs with the next shelf?”

The Doctor tip-toe ran to retrieve the plank. He laid it.

It didn’t reach. He just needed one more shelf….

He peeked into the main warehouse and saw the ink. Inky was out there, peering down into the bottle-toss stall.

The Doctor’s pulses quickened. He slipped through the shelves he dismantled.

Inky pulled away from the stall.

The Doctor pressed himself to the ground.

Inky took one squish at a time toward the corner.

Getting to his feet, the Doctor watched Inky search behind shelves near the haunted house ride. He took his chance to slip around into a Little Miracle Station.

Clang! Clang!

The two gates Inky already searched dropped to the ground. The demon’s ink trickled to the hiding station’s door. Then it entered the cabinet itself.

The Doctor couldn’t see where Inky was, but he could hear him growl. It sounded like he was near the shelves he dismantled.

One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. Four.

Ink covered the nearest shelves. It made a tall portal, and out stepped the demon.

From here, the Doctor could count Inky’s ribs and the spikes jutting out of his spine. Inky’s head swiveled toward the Little Miracle Station.

The Doctor pressed himself to its back.

Inky raised a gloveless, five-fingered fist. Knock! Knock! Knock!

The Doctor held his breath.

Inky waited for a moment before slinking toward attraction storage.

The Doctor waited until the ink retreated too to place his hand on the door. “What’s the matter? Can’t get me in here? Who smashed the one upstairs?”

He climbed out and peered through the shelving.

The ink still lingered around the attraction storage gate. He waited, hiding station standing open behind him, until the veins moved inside.

He tip-toed to the banged-up gate and poked his head inside.

Grr….

The growl was soft, but it wasn’t directed at him and that’s what mattered. Inky’s trails were already down the stairs.

He stepped inside and peeked down.

The demon stood in the ink. He grabbed dead hearts from a pile and chucked them over his shoulder. He peeked under the table and walked around an old train’s engine car. He rounded the room and climbed the other staircase. His ink went with him.

The Doctor frowned. “I don’t know what he’s looking for, but _I’ve_ still got to look around up there.”

Just as he was turning back for more shelves, he heard the solitary pounding heart again.

He climbed into the Little Miracle Station and shut the door.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Slowly, Inky’s trails climbed the stairs. In a few moments, so did Inky. His grin quivered. His fists flexed. Growls intermingled with his raspy breaths.

The Doctor climbed out when the trails were gone. He took the gate step by step.

The trails were over in R&D, which the Butcher Gang were approaching. They stopped when they got near, set down a pail and brush – _INK_ , said the pail – and shuffled toward the Storage 9 entrance instead. They’d just made the stairs when the Doctor caught sight of Inky.

He retreated to the Little Miracle Station.

No ink. Soon, the heartbeat was gone too.

When he investigated, Inky was nowhere. He returned to the dismantling shelves.

He finished setting up his pathways as the Butcher Gang was retrieving their ink bucket. He eyed with disgust the hearts that Inky scattered earlier.

A search of the train yielded nothing, so he walked over to Joey Drew’s audio log. On the wall was a message from Henry: _THAT’S THE JOEY I KNEW._

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and pressed play.

_I believe there’s something special in all of us. With true inner strength, you can conquer even your biggest challenges. You just have to believe in yourself and remain honest, motivated, and above all, who you really are._

The Doctor was just turning away to slip upstairs when Joey’s tone changed.

_Ok, let’s stop it right there. I can only do so many takes of this trash a day. And tell the guys in writing I want more use of the word dreaming in every message. Keep railing on that, get it? Dreaming! Dreaming! Dreaming! People just eat up that kind of slop. Hmm What? It’s still on? Well turn it off, damn it!_

Muttering under his breath about the studio’s founders, the Doctor stomped up the steps to look around. It was mostly just a catwalk, but there was a stored photo booth, a power lever, a chest, and access to another train up here. He poked around, and when he got to checking out the train, he found a treasure trove. No, not alien technology. A yellowed letter and a black book.

He carried them back to outside the Little Miracle Station and sat down to read.

_Fellow projectionists,_

_We all know the Ink Demon isn’t going to save us. He’s the one keeping this hell going._

_We’re the ones that can fix it. Take a look at page 214. We’ll need that and some bait…._

_Keep building your strength with those hearts._

_X_

Bile rose in the Doctor’s throat. “I know you don’t like him, but this is murder. And _you’re_ the vivisectionists? Even one of the studio founders feels _bad_ for your victims. You’ve become as bad as – no _worse_ than Inky! If anything could make me believe your murder here was just self-defense, this is it.”

He gulped. The smashed cut-outs from some point in the time loop. That would fit luring the Ink Demon out. And that reel? He’d set one up. What reel were they talking about?

He set the letter aside and put his hand on the hard-bound book with the horns surrounding its title. Seeing the author made him pause: _Joey Drew._

The Doctor turned the musty pages with the scratch, scratch, scratch of paper against paper.

“The End.”

Joey Drew Studios had a film reel labeled “The End,” and all it did was show the end card. _The_ end card. The one that announced the end of the show’s life.

As he frowned at another pentagonal psychic circuit illustrated on the page, he heard something scrape against the floor. He looked up.

Kneeling in front of the Little Miracle Station was a Weeping Angel. Literally weeping. At least, judging by the ink stains around its eyes and the splatter pattern on the floor.

The Doctor got to his feet.

He blinked.

_Squeak!_

When his eyes opened, he was greeted with the sight of the Angel pressing its plushie to its chest. It had an audio recording there too. He walked closer and looked at the floor. There, still wet, was a horned stick figure and the words _WHERE ARE YOU?_

“I thought I saw Inky looking for something earlier, but it was a some _one_ wasn’t it? A Pnetiiy.” He eyed the toy and the recording in the Angel’s arms. “You’re looking for Henry.”

The next time he blinked, the Bendy Angel was looking at him.

He touched the child’s horn and let him sip on his time energy to show he meant no harm. “Henry seems kind in his messages, but he’s also got a grudge. I’ve got my doubts about him. When I find him, I’m going to talk to him. I want you to stay-” He blinked.

Under his nose, the cassette player clicked. _If anyone finds this, my name is Henry, and I’m trapped-_

Static. No wonder. The Doctor was surprised it played at all – dented, scraped, and gargling ink. He thought he saw tread marks on its front.

_-two of them-_

He reached for his sonic. “I think we may be able to get a bit more from it.”

_-the shadows. I-I just feel like I’m being watched. There’s something-_

The tape gurgled again. “No!” The Doctor changed the screwdriver’s frequency.

_-don’t know what to make of me. *** makes sense, ‘cause I don’t-_

As the Doctor blinked, the Weeping Angel pressed the rasping tape into his free hand.

_-couldn’t save… couldn’t save… couldn’t save-_

Cursing, the Doctor made the audio skip forward.

_...so many things that don’t make any sense._

_If anyone finds this, if you make it out, don’t ever return, because the Ink Demon_ will _find you._

It clicked off. The Doctor bleeped and fidgeted with it, but his efforts ended with a tape that could only play a crackling. Finally, he held the tape back toward the frowning, ink-eyed Angel. “Where did you find this?”

He blinked. The Weeping Angel was gone, but he heard a _squeak_ in the warehouse. He followed his ears to the haunted house ride’s entrance.

His guide was standing to the side of two messages – one ink, and one psychic. When he caught up, he blinked and heard a squeaking up the tracks. He followed the Weeping Angel through the dark attraction filled with cardboard ghosts and tombstones, an empty prison labeled _Bendy_ , and the shadow of a Boris doll.

He stopped short when they made it into the ride’s portrait room: there was an Alice in there, or an Alice corpse anyway, and the whole place was covered with scattered rubble. The only things whole were that corpse and one of those ink-crafting machines.

As he approached the fallen Alice, he could see an inky message written beside her: _ANGELS MUST FALL._

He knelt next to the body and found a slit in its chest – the face was frozen in pained fury, the death wound matched that other Alice’s blade, and a hand was wrapped around a weapon of the corpse’s own. The Doctor glanced at the Weeping Angel and ran a hand through his hair. _“We don’t know why he did that. Did you see him crying after? And then she turned on him. He looked too grief-stricken to even try running from her if you ask me._ That is what she said, isn’t it?”

Blink. Squeak!

The Angel held its toy to its chest, its head lowered, and its eyes shut. Drip. Drip. Whatever quantum lock was on it didn’t apply to its inky tears.

The Doctor straightened up and glanced at the walls. They had horror portraits – a skeleton, a woman with snakes for hair – just to name a few. The walls were also adorned in psychic overlays which had names, and a final message fit between the room’s entrance and exit: _FRIENDS TO THE END._

He shoved his hands in his pocket. “Unfortunate. Time is looping, but _you cannot get involved._ You’re a murderer and a parasite, remember? You only make things worse.” Catching sight of the Angel looking at him, he added, “Sorry. Just talking to myself. This isn’t where you found the tape, is it? Lead on.”

* * *

_The Doctor’s eyes snap open._

_A stone Bendy is grinning down at him._

_Whispers. Whispers escalate into shouts. Panic. Mayhem._

_Joey is kneeling beside the Doctor. He helps him sit up._

_Only two locals remain._

_One has a gun on the Doctor. “You threatened my father! He disappeared the next day. We_ all _know someone who’s disappeared!”_

_The next yanks the gun from his hands. It goes off. “I’ll make them both leave. But first.. I’ve seen.. another moving statue. And something.. else.”_

_The Doctor places his hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Get back in the TARDIS. Now.”_

“ _I don’t think-”_

“ _The past. The time loop. Kaboom! Suddenly comes to an end.”_

* * *

Kaboom!

The Angel led him over tracks where electronic candles lit TNT decorations. Recorded screams followed them through a maintenance shaft, and projected ghosts followed them until they rounded a corner.

The shaft led out to a relatively normal corridor, covered in ink and posters, which they followed around the corner to a Little Miracle Station on the left, and a flickering, clicking light ahead, one that was moving closer.

The Angel froze inside a niche. The Doctor climbed in the Little Miracle Station and waited.

He watched as a Projectionist lumbered from around the next corner, carrying a key ring. The being stopped halfway through the hall, unlocked a closet, and looked through a few cobweb-covered reels. In less than a minute, it lumbered back the way it came, empty-handed.

Some tension melted from the Doctor’s shoulders. He slipped out and grabbed a random reel from the closet. When he went to peek around the corner, the projectionist was gone. The Angel was waiting.

They took the stairs down numerous flights and arrived in a little shack town in a cavern – complete with a dock and an inky river. Ink people were lounging or standing – one was even fishing. They whispered among themselves and shied away from the Weeping Angel.

Over a boarded-up doorwaywas a sign that said in ink NOT MONSTERS, and this was surrounded by papers that displayed inky hand prints. In Henry’s psychic overlay, the sign read _ONCE PEOPLE, NOW FALLEN INTO DESPAIR._ Candles sat, lit in front of the doorway, and another inky message to the side asked, WHAT AM I?

On the side of the building was another inky message, once more: THE CREATOR LIED TO US.

The Doctor was about to follow his guide through the gate, when he spied another message from Henry in the area: _YOU BRING DEATH._

He slowed and changed directions to approach one of the village’s inky inhabitants. He cleared his throat and met glowing yellow eyes. “Excuse me-”

The ink being melted into a puddle. So did the ones around him, and as the Doctor looked around, he noticed it wasn’t just them – it was the whole village.

“Betrayed!” chanted voices from behind the boarded doorway. “Abandoned!”

The Doctor turned. The boarded doorway wasn’t boarded up anymore. The boards lay in pieces and an inky man stood in front of them, wearing a pair of Boris pants and suspenders, a mask clearly made using one of Bendy’s cut-outs, and carrying an ax. “I trusted you! _My flock_ trusted you!”

The legion of voices? That was coming from the masked man alone.

The Doctor stepped back. “What? Hold on. Weren’t you spying on me on Level 11?”

He glanced toward the Angel. It was curled up against wall, covering its eyes with the plushie.

“And you left us for the demon!! ...Why? WHY!?”

The Doctor backed away from the madman. “Hold on, I haven’t done anything to you!”

He rushed him with the ax.

The Doctor ran toward the stairs.

“Come here and put your face in my ax!”

“I’d rather not!” He took the steps two at a time.

The masked man kept close behind. “I’m going to wipe that smile right off your face!”

“I never was your savior! _You_ made assumptions.”

“You lied to me! You said I’d be free!” The ax nicked the Doctor’s back.

The Doctor reached the floor he was aiming for and pushed himself a little faster. Around the corner and into a Little Miracle Station.

The masked man stayed in the hallway. “Sheep, sheep, sheep! Where are you, sheep?”

He didn’t want to, but if this psycho kept searching for him, the Doctor might have to use his sonic screwdriver to destabilize his ink. He readied it.

The man screeched and chopped at a loose leaning plank. “When I find you, I’m going to free you! Free your head right off your shoulders!” He sliced his ax through the plank, sending its halves crashing to the floor.

He roared and struck his ax into the wall. He stuck his fingers in a puddle of ink and lifted them to a blank panel beside his ax. _THE SAVIOR LIED TO US._

The masked man retrieved his ax and stomped past the Little Miracle Station, off around the corner.

The Doctor opened the station door as quietly as he could, but as he was setting his converse on the floor, the whole place rumbled. “THE BLACK RAM HAS STRAYED TO HIGHER GROUND. ALL OUR LORD’S SHEPHERDS MUST SEARCH FOR HIM!”

The Doctor pulled his foot back inside the Little Miracle Station and shut the door.

Inky crowds were lurching by in a matter of minutes. The upright ones with the tentacles and the glowing eyes. The crouching ones with the indistinct faces. Some of them carried weapons – or at least pipes and wrenches that could be used as such.

The last of them drummed around the corner. The Doctor waited a moment and slipped out. He tip-toed down the stairs, into the deserted village, and opened the gate the Angel had led him toward.

It led to a hallway with gaping blackness for a floor – a hole with single planks balanced over the occasional board. He tested his weight on the first plank.

He made it over the first few boards, and then he stepped onto the third one. He got halfway.

Snap! Whoosh! He plunged into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Parasite.


	6. In Which the Doctor Says Three Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> The Doctor hides from Inky as the demon searches for someone. Afterward, he finds a murder plot against Inky and a Weeping Angel that’s crying. The Angel presents him with a fragmented recording of Henry’s and leads him down through the ink village, where the Doctor gets attacked by Sammy Lawrence, slips away, and falls through a hallway when the one board left of the floor snaps.
> 
> In the future, the Doctor and a Bendy Angel looks into a Weeping Angel loose on Slvson 8, and the Doctor warns Joey not to join him for the sake of the past.

He landed in something cold and wet. His mind flooded. He couldn’t even hear himself think – not over the mental cacophony. He pressed his eyes shut in an effort to block it out.

He pushed himself to the surface.

A hard, cold hand grabbed him. He let it pull him onto the rocky floor.

Ink. Yuck! He was grateful it cushioned his fall, but still!

He rested an ink-covered hand against a damp, stony wall and opened his eyes. The Angel child was kneeling next to him, and above its head, he could see another of Henry’s thoughts. This one was over a symbol drawn in ink of some square device with a handle: _IT’S INSIDE THE VAULT._

The Doctor looked around the small room they were in. Nothing else but that ink pool, stone walls, and the doorway out. “Henry was here, but why would he hang around this place? He wouldn’t. But he might find himself in here if he fell through that board like I just did. Or if he will… or if he _would have…_ further into this time loop.”

The Angel was peeking its head at him from the doorway. Through it was a waiting area in front of a gated-off area labeled Administration. A faded Bendy face beamed at him from over its top.No messages from anyone, no one else around except one of the cardboard Angels leaning between two sets of wooden benches, and another one around the next corner standing next to a Little Miracle Station.

His stone guide was pointing to a room labeled _FILM VAULT._ The Doctor went inside and passed exposed pipes, but there was a problem – the hallway between said room and said vault was chest-high in ink – he could see it through the door’s glass window.

He backtracked through a different doorway into a small office. He took a look behind the desk and found an audio log sitting on the chair. One of Thomas Connor’s.

_Progress Report to Gent Home Office. Client: Joey Drew Studios._

_Although we’re making progress, the client’s expectations keep changing. What started as a machine to simply mold life-sized figures, now seems to be teetering on the edge of magic more than engineering._

_Although Mr. Drew remains convinced they are the same thing._

_The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on is going well. We’ve had several near successes._

_One weird note, the first figure ever created was a failed attempt in the likeness of the character named Bendy. Since that time, no other attempts of this particular figure have emerged. And the one that did.. I dunno, there’s something just unworldly about him._

The Doctor kept staring as the cassette player clicked off. He exhaled. “Gotta keep moving.”

He backtracked to the waiting room. Opposite him was a secretary’s office with windows through which he could see a lever. In the corner outside the secretary’s office was another one of those ink-crafting machines. Checking on the machine showed that it could make pipes like the ones he needed, but he didn’t have any ink to feed it yet.

Pulling the lever in the office opened the administration gate. Since the Angel was just waiting for him now, he might as well go exploring.

It was a maze in there. He twisted and turned, poking his head into every office and closet he came across. He found a voice memo of Joey Drew trying to re-establish his role as a financially-successful leader, despite the studio’s obvious failure. He found a room with nothing but a hiding station in it. He found a dry ink well in one room, with a recording from Wally Franks on a chair, which regaled anyone who listened with a story of Wally finding a chocolate cake.

One door he unlocked led to an empty hallway and a functional elevator shaft. Its controls had it going up as far as Level 9.

He shut the door and kept exploring. At the end of a hall, he found a table with a tape and a Little Miracle Station nearby. This was another of Joey Drew’s tapes.

_Listen, Tommy, I know you boys over at Gent are doing your best, but I’m paying for living attractions, not weird abominations! You know that grinning thing I saw wandering around your office, you’d better keep it locked up tight! I realize it was a first attempt but imagine if the press caught sight of it! Might scare off investors! And in response to your previous memo: if you claim your failures are because these things are soulless, then, damn it, we’ll get them a soul! After all, I own thousands of ‘em!_

With a shudder, he kept exploring and finally found the thick ink he needed near the furthest office. Just whose office it was made him stop. A sign with a star declared it to be the office of Joey Drew, and its window was blocked by a thick curtain.

He opened the door. Inside was an office roomy for one person and the nicest he’d seen yet – lots of drawer space. On top was an audio log. Joey’s of course.

_I know how much this part means to you, Susie. Alice means a lot to me too. All of my characters do. In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I too really believe my characters are more than just drawings. They’re alive. They’re part of us. And I want people to know them as well as I do. I want people to be able to shake their hand, spend an afternoon with ‘em. Love them. Susie, I’ll be straight with you. I’m putting together a small project... a little ceremony. If it works, a lot of dreams will come true. And I want you to be a part of it. ...I want you to bring Alice to life once again. What do ya say?_

The urge to punch Joey Drew returned. The Doctor busied his hands by searching the six desk drawers.

There, he found an ink bottle, a record, Joey’s book, a Bendy plush, a wrench, and a gear. Useless.

He looked up, and just above the door was another of Henry’s thoughts: _WHO IS THE MAN BEHIND THE MONSTER?_

The Doctor left the room and collected enough ink to make the pipes he needed to replace and got the ink drained. He traversed the hallway and stood before the vault. It was already open – door off its hinges. Nothing much inside in terms of company valuables – there was ink, a few boxes, and a message from Henry: _THE DEMON HAS TAKEN IT._

The Angel was pointing toward a metal gate in the corner, but the Doctor stopped to look through the old weakened cardboard boxes anyway. There was a radio and several old _Bendy_ episodes but neither the reel for “The End” nor any square thing with a handle.

He pulled out his screwdriver, aimed at the gate, and blinked. He followed the Angel through.

* * *

_The Doctor blinks. Slowly._

_Nothing. Empty cliff – except that device._

_Something crunches._

_He blinks again._

_Nothing._

_The local’s hand shakes his shoulder. “Doctor-”_

_The Doctor’s already spinning around. They both tumble to the white, moss-covered ground. An energy bolt nearly hits the Doctor’s ear._

“ _MUTUAL ENEMY CONFIRMED. SOURCE OF WEEPING ANGEL INSANITY DISCOVERED. I HAVE FOUND THE DOCTOR! FIRST HIM, THEN YOU!”_

_The Doctor and the skinny blond Lz local press against a cliff wall. Twenty feet from them is a bronze, bump-colored personal war tank with an eyestalk._

“ _Another one!” the Doctor shouts. “How did_ you _survive?”_

“ _EXTERMINATE!” The Dalek blasts the cliff face, sending boulders hurtling toward both Time Lord and Lz._

* * *

The Gallifreyan’s blood froze: an empty projector was shining on a wall beside a cut-out. He picked up the projector and smashed it against the floor. The light died.

He looked at the cut-out. “I’d be careful if I were you. Those guys with the projectors as heads – they are not your friends, and they are definitely not your father’s friends. See them, run. See the guy with one of your siblings’ heads strapped around his face, run. See anyone for that matter, run.”

Of course the cardboard Angel couldn’t answer, so the Doctor continued following the stone one down the hall. In the next niche, there was the cardboard Angel again – unless it was another one. The Angel stood next to a desk covered in sketches. This looked like the concept art for the Bendy cartoon character. A particularly cute sketch – one with a shiny head and an open-mouthed smile had a rejection note, just _NO_ posted to it. And according to Henry, _HE WAS BORN HERE._

The Doctor and his guide continued through a hallway that had glass windows looking over into a parallel hallway, turned the corner, and saw a big inky message: _DEATH →_

They entered a large cavern and there was the ink machine! There, on the other side of an inky moat with a few crates floating in it. Makeshift lamp posts lit the place. Directly across the moat was a doorway, over which was a giant spigot dribbling ink. Large pipes attached to the spigot and the walls.

His eyes wandered to the Weeping Angel crossing the lake. Sure, it was harmless enough now, but if something happened to create the stories he remembered, what was the best way out? Back through the moat? Would he have to sneak through the giant pipes? He was sure he could fit if he had to – it was just a matter of the Angel not knowing where he went.

Speaking of, it was looking back at him.

“Hold on a bit, Gallifreyan senses and psychic, temporally-charged ink don’t mix.” Glancing around for signs of Inky, the Doctor backed up to the hallway. He got a door to take off its hinges and a plank to paddle with.

The door was a bit heavy, but the Doctor made it do. He paddled across the moat and followed his guide up the stairs, catching sight of a dead chest-creature lying on a rock.

They stepped quietly into the machine. At first, it was just a hallway covered in panels. Removing one revealed twentieth-century Earth wiring within. Just as it seemed to be from the audio tapes – alien technology manufactured on Earth.

The Doctor let the Angel lead on. There were niches – incubation pods. Several before he even got to the lever for the door, and more once he’d opened it. Some were in use, forming more of the yellow-eyed, tentacle-faced humanoids, one forming another of those cartoon wolves. Some were empty. He saw written on the back of one: _I STILL REMEMBER MY NAME._

Ahead, there was a macabre throne – a horned, cushioned chair placed on top a pile of dead projectionists, large gears acting like steps up to its height. Projectors played a myriad of cartoons on screens surrounding the throne.

He bent down to investigate a broken cassette player near the throne – why did Inky have it here?

A soft scraping from another hallway caught his attention before he could finish looking into it though. He looked up, and there was his guide peeking at him. When he blinked, it was gone.

_Squeak!_

“Alright, I’m coming, but I find it hard to believe you found the recording all the way down here. Unless it dropped out of a pipe?”

The Angel gave no answer – at least not one that the Doctor could even recognize as one, so he kept following it through hallways of incubation chambers. They entered a room with four glass pillars and a giant grate on the floor.

The wall read _WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?_

He shivered. “Hate to think you’ve got anything to do with that message.”

When he went to step forward, onto the grate, it was slid out from under him and he fell through instead. He landed on something wobbly – a cot? A cot with a pillow, a Bendy plush, and bedding that wasn’t made at all. The wall beside it held a poster for “Bendy Walks the Plank.” Scattered across the floor were toy planes and trains and picture books. “Hold on. This is a child’s room. But where’s the child?”

He blinked. When he opened his eyes, there were Bendy Angels crowded around the bed – both the statues and the cut-outs. “Not fair! I try to help you lot, and you ambush me! You’re going to get everyone killed – yourselves included!”

His eyes watered. He couldn’t hold them open much longer, and he knew the Angels were going to get him the moment he blinked. Despite this, even his quick Time Lord brain couldn’t find a way out.

Too late. He blinked.

Only one Angel took advantage of it – a stone Angel with a screaming distorted face stuck halfway between their original Bendy appearance and their more conventional one. It had two horns and two pie-cut eyes, but it also had thick, curly hair down to its widow’s peak and a bump of a nose. It wore a bow tie over its angelic robes, but its wings were still missing. It was reaching toward the Doctor with a gloved, five-fingered hand.

He jumped away and bumped into another Angel.

He looked over without thinking, and he was in time to see the stone Bendy he’d bumped into crumbling away, leaving a cut-out version in its place. The Doctor climbed off the foot of the bed and prodded the cut-out. It sipped at his time energy and tickled his consciousness, just like all the other Angels.

The Doctor turned around and found two stone Bendys restraining the half-transformed Bendy Angel. Its nose was gone now. He grinned. “You’re not Bendy Angels turning into Weeping Angels – you’re Weeping Angels turning into Bendys!” He gently rubbed the horn of the cut-out he’d been examining. “Into Bendy cut-outs by the looks of things. No – you’re not Weeping Angels at all! You’re parasites! Parasites that feed on the Weeping Angels.”

He faked a smile for the Bendys’ benefit. If they needed time energy to live, what did that say about their odds of all surviving after he broke the time loop? He was going to have to kill a bunch of little kids _again_ in order to get everyone else out of this situation, wasn’t he?

No, no, he’d find a way for them to survive. Even though there wasn’t one. “It will be okay. Everything will be okay.”

If only he could convince himself.

When next he blinked, there was a fully-infected Weeping Angel – a stone Bendy, that is – standing before him and offering him a broken reel.

He took it. “The End.” He turned it over, in the back, there was a cracked-open secret compartment. He tore it open and his eyes widened. “This definitely isn’t from Earth, nor is it from this time zone. Did Henry make it? Joey?”

In the Doctor’s excitement, he failed to notice the thumping heartbeat approaching.

“This is from Slvson 8 in about three thousand years from now.”

He didn’t notice the inky veins running down the walls either.

“The Slvsonian’s first time travel technology. Well, first _legal_ time travel technology. The Lz built it. They’d meant it as a weapon against the Pnetiiy, but it’s what finally brought peace between the two species. This is what’s causing the time loop! Pretty good bait for Weeping Angels too.”

A smooth hand grabbed his arm.

As he blinked, he got yanked into a stone embrace, and a second statue wrapped its arms around him and the first Angel. Two stone Bendys were clinging to him, looking up at something above the grate.

The Doctor directed his eyes upward too.

He glimpsed his guide standing beside Inky.

Inky was already changing into his larger form. His teeth glinted, even in the dim lights. He stuck his inky breath down, right in the Doctor’s face, and roared. He pulled back and looked at his hand, which he flexed. He rubbed his fingertips past each other, resulting in the sharp _swoosh_ of sharp blade against sharp blade.

The Doctor gulped.

Cut-outs started swarming between him and Inky, but Inky brushed them aside and aimed his sharp fingers at the Doctor’s throat. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold on! Three things!”

Inky pulled his hand back, tilted his head, and growled.

The Doctor had his attention, but he had to talk fast. “One. You’re the one keeping the time loop going, aren’t you? You just needed to draw the Weeping Angels here so you could use them to fertilize your eggs. You inherited memories from an Lz working at the studio, so you were able to replicate their technology.”

Inky plucked the film reel from the Doctor’s fingers, examined it and its contents, bared his teeth, and growled again.

“I didn’t break it!”

The Ink Demon curled his hand around the reel. When he opened his hand, the reel was covered in thick black ink, but the reel and device were being put back together as the ink faded away. Setting the film reel aside, the Ink Demon locked his gaze on the Doctor. He mouthed something at him, but the Doctor wasn’t familiar enough with his species to read his lips. The meaning became clear when one of the stone Bendys moved his hand and shielded the Doctor’s throat.

His mouth went dry. Alright, onto point two quickly. “Two. You’ve noticed that your children are protecting me, haven’t you? Don’t you want to know why? It’s because I’ve spoken to some of them, and I promised them I’d _help._ And I will! I know you’ve been hurt by the people here, but I will help you. You’ve just got to stop with the time loop – you’re endangering everybody in this system.”

Inky roared, shook his head, pounded his fists on either side of the grate, and stuck his face in the Doctor’s to roar again.

The Doctor swallowed. “Or I could just take you far away to where you never have to see them again. I have a space ship. I can do that.”

Inky swiped at his face and drew blood.

It stung. The Doctor winced.

Inky’s growl rattled the grates overhead.

“Three,” said the Doctor quickly. He licked his lips. “I’ve noticed a child’s bed down here – just one. Your children don’t need one until they hatch, do they? That means you’ve got a hatchling, and your hatchling’s missing. What else could rile you up this badly? I’ve been a father before too. I-” He choked up. “I know what it’s like to lose a child.”

Inky went quiet, eyes – if he had any – on the Doctor. Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Henry.


	7. In Which the Doctor Makes a Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> A Bendy Angel leads the Doctor into the Ink Machine. There, he discovers that what he thought was the still-developing race of Weeping Angels are really parasites that feed off them until they’re fertilized as “eggs” – or as cut-outs. The only one that’s hatched is missing.
> 
> The Bendys show him “The End” and the time device hidden inside. 
> 
> Inky shows up and is none too happy about the Doctor’s presence. He fixes his tech and threatens the Doctor. The Doctor tries to talk his way out of it by putting the pieces together that it’s Inky causing the time loop and why and offering to help look for the missing Bendy.
> 
> In the future, he is attacked by a Dalek, who has temporarily teamed up with the “sane” Weeping Angels to take down the Doctor.

Something warm and wet touched the Doctor’s cheek the moment he blinked. Allergies. Had to be. “I lost all my children in fact. I lost everyone. Even recently – a sweet young girl. But you, you have a chance. To get your hatchling back. And for your family to thrive.”

Inky shrunk back into his eight-foot form with the painted mouth.

“I came here just to be able to escape the time loop myself, but a missing child – I can’t ignore that. I will drop everything and help you look for your hatchling because it’s _right_.” He blinked away tears and memories.

After a beat, Inky stepped back, and the Doctor heard him pulling some sort of lever. The demon returned, waved the two Bendys holding the Doctor aside, and offered the Time Lord his big cartoony hand.

“Thanks, big fella. Knew you’d come ‘round.”

The moment the Doctor took Inky’s hand, Inky growled. He hurled the Doctor through a glass pillar now filled with ink.

It shattered. Its fragments cut where he landed on them. They gashed where they landed on him.

His stomach protested. His mind tingled.

The Doctor rolled out from the spurting ink in time to see Inky’s arm stretching toward the pillar.

He backed away on his hands and knees.

Inky wheezed his laughter.He pulled his hand from the ink and stepped toward a wall. There, he wrote: _HE WAS LOOKING FOR HENRY._

Safe. The Doctor was safe. Inky was letting him go. He was a jerk about it, but still.

Inky was peering at the Doctor from under his dripping ink.

“I have some other ideas of where he could be too-” the Doctor cut off, situation hitting him.

Upstairs were three cartoon characters who watched that flashing “Demonic Tonic” episode. The episode’s poster showed a tiny Bendy in a bottle, and a nearby wall held a freshly-inked rhyme. _How does this end?_

Upstairs were creeping projector-heads who wrote notes tucked inside Joey Drew’s book. They noted “The End” of the ink demons and discussed bait.

And far upstairs was a prophet and his hoard, numerous and armed. They were actively searching for someone who “failed” them at killing a demon.

The Doctor swallowed. “I have some other ideas of where he could be too, but you think if I find Henry, I might find a lead on your son?”

Inky nodded. He lifted a finger and pointed out the door.

“Right. I’ll get going then. Got a hatchling to find and all that.” The Doctor nodded and rushed from the door just slowly enough to avoid aggravating Inky.

He noticed on his way through the throne room that the cassette player had been repaired. When glanced over his shoulder to see if the demon would notice, Inky wasn’t behind him.

He slipped the thing into his pocket without missing a step.

Something rustled behind him.

At this point, he was just grateful there were no ink trails. Still, he glanced over his shoulder. Nothing.

The Doctor gripped the cassette player, but he didn’t dare to bring it out until he’d followed the signs to the admin elevator and was in it with the doors shut.

Interesting. He grinned. This wasn’t a cassette player at all – this was a communicator disguised as one. A direct line to somebody. Its battery was low, but he supposed Inky’s trick might not be able to charge it. Not a type of battery his sonic could improve either. Pity.

The Doctor pressed the play button to place the call.

Joey Drew’s voice poured through, and the Doctor listened to catch on to what he wanted. “It’s simply awe-inspiring what one can accomplish with their own hands. A lump of clay can turn to meaning… if you strangle it with enough enthusiasm. Look what we’ve built! We’ve created life itself, Henry!”

“ _Henry?”_ The Doctor voiced the question before he could stop himself.

Joey hesitated. “You’re not Henry.”

“No, I’m not. This is the Doctor speaking.”

“The doctor? Doctor… who?”

The Doctor smirked at the device. “Just the Doctor.”

“What planet are you from? What time? Where’s Henry?”

“As much as I’d love to ask what’s going on between you and him,” as he spoke, the Doctor soniced the phone to determine how fast the battery was draining, “this thing doesn’t have much battery left, and I was hoping you could answer that last question for me.”

Joey hesitated. “You mean you haven’t seen him?”

“’Fraid not. I reached the ink machine before him, but there was no sign of him on my way back through administration.”

Joey cursed. A thud sounded through the phone. “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT WITH HIM?”

The Doctor straightened. “What is it _you_ want with him?”

“I thought you said we didn’t have time for this! Look, I don’t know where he is, but I’ll tell you where he might be if you tell me why an off-worlder is tracking him down.”

He nodded, although Joey couldn’t see him. “My ship got caught in the time loop. Are you aware that it’s the whole planetary system at this point?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oi! I’m just trying to fix it! The device causing it is here in your studio. I was just looking for someone who knew something about it, but now I have reason to believe lives are at stake. Your friend’s included.”

The phone beeped.

Joey spoke quickly. “That’s the battery warning, isn’t it? Alright. There are two people who normally take Henry captive. They look like an Alice Angel and a Boris the Wolf with a mechanical arm. Have you seen them around?”

“Yeah. They were on Level 9.”

“They’re where? But they’re never up there! They aren’t time-aware enough to deviate.” Joey took a breath that was audible over the line. “Never mind. Where are you now?”

“In the admin lift.”

“Check the hideaway at the end of the ink river. And watch out for Bendy – he’s killed Henry there bef-”

The Doctor put the dead phone in his pocket and pressed the button to go up one level. He emerged in a cave with a solid stone floor, but there was that hallway to his right that was just a single board. On his left was a metal gate that he soniced open.

It led onto the river itself. It had hardly any dock here, but there was a paddle boat parked a leap away. He climbed in and followed the river to a dock where a second boat was banked.

He docked and climbed onto the stone shore, which had shelves behind a grate, an empty niche, and one of Henry’s psychic messages on the floor: _THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE RIVER._

The Doctor glanced behind him, but all he saw was the last of the boat’s ripples skirting across the otherwise smooth ink.

He walked up a hallway and passed an unidentified coffin. He avoided some deep ink puddles and finally arrived at a thick wooden door that was slightly ajar.

He pushed it open.

Snores greeted him, but he couldn’t see the snorer. They were coming from behind a boarded prison on the left. At the back was a wall on which he could see a cot and a fish tank – with clear water, not goopy, smelly ink. The right wall was painted with inky drawings and a giant word, _HOPE_.

What caught his attention though was a large workbench with a toolbox and a square-framed device with a handle on it – exactly like it was drawn downstairs.

As he moved to examine it, he could make out more of Henry’s messages inside. On his immediate right: _SHE WILL LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD._ And on the ceiling: _SOMETHING’S DIFFERENT._

He ignored them, wrapping his fingers around a blocky handle. Light bulbs were strapped to the frame, a vial of ink strapped to its battery. His sonic revealed crude psychic circuitry inside the handle, but neither he nor his handy tool could determine the device’s purpose.

He held onto it as he strolled to the prison’s empty window.

Inside, it resembled Grant Cohen’s office in that messages covered the walls and floors, only in psychic overlays rather than ink. _THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE. ~~DON’T~~ GO THROUGH THE DOOR. ← WHAT DOOR? _And other such messages. One told him to take a spoon, but there was no spoon hanging from the nail it pointed to.

There was a bathroom, just a toilet really, in the back, and a message there confused the Doctor: _YOU WILL NEED THIS._ It pointed to, as far as he could tell, the toilet.

As the Doctor put his hand to the door frame to get a better look, he felt something etched in – floor numbers and letters.

Glancing down, he spotted the missing spoon – stuck inside the top board barring the Doctor’s entrance. And also pulled against the door was a cot, whereon the snorer lay. The Doctor could only make out a sturdy male build with dark, scraggly hair and whiskers against pale skin.

“Henry?”

The snoring man kept snoring.

“OI! HENRY! You are Henry, aren’t you?”

This time, the man startled off his cot, revealing the psychic image of a coffin underneath. He looked up at the Doctor with big, dark eyes. “Yeah, that’s me, but who are you? Can you get me out of this cell?”

Henry moved the cot aside and stood by the window, in the better lighting. Now the Doctor could make out a sharp widow’s peak, two human ears, and a human nose.

“You look human!”

Henry stepped back. “I am human. Please, can you let me out?”

The Doctor surveyed Henry’s clothes. “Look at you – I can only just tell from your shoulders that your shirt was white before all this. The rest of you is covered in ink! And yet, your perception filter’s still working. How?”

Henry blinked. “My what?”

“Right.” The Doctor grinned. “I already know about you. Well, I already know what you are. No need to hide. I know you go by Henry, but who are you really?”

Squinting at him, Henry tensed. “My name _is_ Henry, Henry- … My name is Henry.” The man only got tenser as he spoke, eyes widening too. “Look. You know my name. What else do you know about who I am?”

“Nothing much, but I’ve been looking for you for the past-”

“Will you let me out?” Henry grabbed the top of the boards and leaned forward until his chest touched the spoon. His stomach growled. “Get me food and water at least.”

“I’m not sure, but I might have seen a cup around here somewhere. Maybe knowing more about that time loop machine the Ink Demon has would help me remember where it was.” The Doctor smirked at Henry.

“ _Bendy_ is responsible for the time loop? I thought that was Joey.” Henry’s hands shook. “You’ve got to give me something to eat and drink.”

The Doctor nodded, but his eyes were scanning the inside of Henry’s room instead of meeting the man’s. Not that there was much left he hadn’t seen – just doodles and etches on the floor.

“Are you going to help me?” Henry’s eyes stayed on the Doctor’s face.

The Doctor blinked. “Oh! Right! Food and water coming up.”

The Doctor grabbed a can of bacon soup from the shelf, opened it up and took a sniff. It smelled like grease and preservatives, but it should still be edible for a Pnetiiy, or a human, or whatever Henry was. “Your friend Joey told me where to find you.”

“Joey did?”

He searched around until he found a bowl. “Yeah. After all, you two have big plans for the Ink Demon.”

“Plans?” Henry paused. “He invited me back to this studio because he wanted to show me something. I’ve been trapped here – I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped here.”

As much as he hated to think it the case from an early employee, a co-founder even, the Doctor could believe Henry didn’t know what was going on. “You were right, there are so many things here that don’t make sense.”

Henry hesitated. “You found that? Why didn’t you get out? … You haven’t found a way either, have you.”

The Doctor placed the bowl on the workbench and poured the soup into it. He set an empty cup down next to the set. “I’ve left you at a disadvantage. My name’s the Doctor. I’m from the planet Gallifrey. Will you tell me anything more about who you are now?”

“All I remember is that my name is Henry, and I used to work here as an animator.” The man started shaking as he spoke. “I don’t even remember my last name, or if I have a family.”

The Doctor mustered a smile. “In that case, it’s a pleasure, Henry.”

“...You too, Doctor.”

He delivered the bowl to the captive and nodded his head toward the back. “I saw water that way. Well, an aquarium at least. The water’s got to come from somewhere. I’ll be back. Here’s this.”

“Thanks.” Henry put the bowl to his lips and tipped his head back.

The Doctor retrieved some water from a pipe and brought the cup to Henry. He handed him his device too.

“What’s this?”

The Doctor raised a brow. “You tell me. You were the one looking for it.”

Frowning, Henry looked through the frame. His eyes widened. “That’s interesting.”

“What?”

Henry moved the device around, keeping his eyes looking through it. “Someone’s written secret messages. They’re all over my cell. _There’s always hope. You draw beautifully. Take the spoon._ Here, you take a look.”

The Doctor declined. “You mean you can’t see them normally?”

“No.” Henry raised an eyebrow. “You can?”

“Yeah. I’d thought they might have been yours.But you might actually be…. There are characters more typical of a human creator than Bendy and Alice. You came up with someone like that in your first two weeks, didn’t you? Boris maybe.”

Henry drained his water in one go. Setting the cup down, he stared at the Doctor. “It wasn’t Boris. And why would the messages be mine?”

“Well, they are things you’d be thinking, aren’t they?”

Henry shuffled away from him, making no audible reply as he kept examining his cell through his new toy. He paused as he held his device toward a message in the bathroom: _YOU’LL NEED THIS_.

The Doctor stared at Henry’s staring at it. “What’s back there, the toilet?”

“That’s right!”

He blinked. “Does that actually mean something?”

If it did….

Henry grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah. It means freedom.” He stepped inside the bathroom, and removed the toilet tank’s lid. He came up with a pipe, which he used to smash through the boards over the doorway. Stretching, he asked, “So what’s this you were saying about the Ink Demon?”

The Doctor muttered to himself instead. “That other Alice? No. Not unless she honestly thinks she’s an angel, but that’s too much an Earth way of thinking. More likely an Lz identifed by her companion. That Boris then? Can’t be. I doubt he’d leave messages that would help Henry escape. The murdered Alice? But-”

“Doctor?” Henry waved a hand in front of the Doctor’s face.

“Sorry, just-” he narrowed his eyes. “Those messages have to be yours. But a Pnetiiy should be able to see them unaided.”

Henry blinked. “Do I look like a Bendy to you? … What was it you were saying about that guy anyway? Something about Joey and I having a plan for him?”

“Let’s forget about Joey’s plan. I’ve got a better one anyway.”

“What’s the new plan then?”

“I ask questions, and you answer them.” He watched Henry’s face carefully.

It fell. “I might not be able to answer everything. Is that okay?”

He nodded. “It’s fine. Now, come on. We’ve something to do. Tell me about Joey Drew.”

Despite his words, the Doctor stopped to examine a crude Bendy-head drawn in ink on the wall.

“I remember that it’s supposed to be a secret, but… the planet Gallifrey, you said? Not Earth? When we were kids, Joey told me he’s an Lz from the planet Slvson 8, and he was banished _here_ because there were others from his planet who-” Henry cut off.

When the Doctor glanced at him, his eyes were wide. “What?”

He swallowed. “I’m human, but which did you ask that I am: a Bendy, or a _Bnedy?_ ”

“It’s pronounced _Pnetiiy._ ” The Doctor ushered Henry through the door. He bounced through himself, grinning. “This is Massachusetts, isn’t it? Not Salem, but a smaller town nearby. There’ll be a lot of humans around here with Pnetiiy blood in their veins from that crash some time ago.”

* * *

_Clank. Thud._ The sounds echoed through the pipes.

Aargh!

The Doctor bumped into Henry, who’d been examining one of his own messages: _I KNOW THE WAY._ He looked back at the Doctor. “Are you alright?”

He snorted. “You’re the one who was attacked by a… _Searcher,_ you call them? … and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

“You seem a bit distracted.” Henry’s eyes darted through the hall.

“My hearing’s more sensitive than yours. It’s something distant, just carrying through the pipes.” The Doctor picked up his pace. “Joey’s Lz; you’re more than half-Pnetiiy, even if you look human; Sammy’s just alien enough that he can occasionally pick up timey-wimey stuff – hence the whole ‘prophet’ thing; Thomas Connorcan somehow work that psychic circuitry he reverse-engineered…. Anyone _else_ here I should be aware of?”

Henry went quiet.

The Doctor glared at him. “Anyone else?”

The man was shying away from a bit of wall, looking around at the ceiling, walls, floor….

He didn’t sense something, did he? The Doctor blinked. Ahead of them appeared a stone Bendy with its head hung. It held a plushy out in front of it. To Henry, he whispered, “What do you know about the Ink Demons?”

“There’s more than one!?”

The Doctor gave Henry a shove. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet. A whole _species_ that came from yours and Joey’s antics.”

Henry flattened his lips. “I had nothing to do with turning my coworkers to ink.”

“Not them.” The Doctor nodded ahead. “ _Them._ ”

Clutching his wrench, Henry stumbled back into an ink puddle.

The Doctor spun. Two lifeless doll eyes stared at him. The possessed Angel held it in his face.

Behind the Angel was a fresh, inky message: _SORRY. I DIDN’T THINK HE WOULD HURT YOU AGAIN._

He sent it a smile. “Aw, you’re just a kid. You can’t be blamed for anything the grown-ups do. You can keep your toy.” Turning his head, he nodded to the Angel. “Henry this is-” He had to look back. “Sorry, I don’t know your name. Or are you all _Bendy?_ ”

Blinking got him a _squeak_ in response. The parasite now held its toy to its host’s chest.

The Doctor returned his attention to the trembling Pnetiiy. “Henry, this is your son. Well, one of them. Yours and Joey’s. I think. He’s feeding off a Weeping Angel for now, but when he hatches, he’ll be a vulnerable little ink demon, just like his missing brother.”

Henry stared at him. “The only thing I understood in all that was _ink demon._ ”

“There’s someone we were hoping we’d find with you. I’ll explain on our way to look for him.”

_Boom._

The Doctor leaned toward the stone Bendy. “Something’s going on. Do you think you could make sure the rest of your siblings are safely in your nursery?”

In a blink, the kid was gone.

“Come on!” The Doctor sprinted the rest of the way to the docks. He could hear Henry’s footsteps pounding behind him. He shoved him in the boat, aimed his sonic at the launch lever, and thrust them down the river. He steered them toward the lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Something’s there.


	8. In Which the Fiddle's Out of Tune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> Inky allows the Doctor to look for Bendy, and Joey tells him where to find Henry. Henry turns out to be a Pnetiiy/human hybrid who can remember little of use to the Doctor.
> 
> The Doctor introduces Henry to the Bendys that feed on the Weeping Angels, or attempts to. He ends up having to send the kid away for the species’ safety before he can get things explained to Henry.

_Stone slams into them. From the side. They fall onto the springy moss._

_The Doctor comes nose-to-wheel with a rubber tire. He crinkles his nose. “Can’t anyone stay on the TARDIS when I tell them to for once?”_

“ _Yeah, I remember our discussion. But do you know what else would change events in the studio? Him getting killed.” Joey snorts. “Did he thank you all this well for saving him too?”_

_The Doctor glares at him._

_Joey reaches over and rubs a black cardboard horn. He whispers toward it. “You’d think he doesn’t know who he’s going to be.”_

_The Doctor’s eyes find the other Lz, who is walking toward where the Dalek was. A Bendy Angel is standing in its place. The Lz leans toward it, running a hand down its arm._

  


Time tap-danced across the Doctor’s skin like drunken fruit flies. It flashed. Everything stayed yellow.

Henry lunged for the controls. They turned toward the village.

The Doctor yanked his collar, only succeeding in tearing its ink-stained cotton. “What are you doing?”

Another boat was docked at the gate. The ink rippled.

“I can remember the other times at the moment.”

A large, gloved hand broke the surface and yanked on the other raft.

Time returned to itself. No hand. No ripples.

The Doctor grabbed at controls. The boat veered right.

Yellow again. A time fragment punched the Doctor’s chest.

The hand shot from the ink, spraying the boat.

The colors normalized.

The hand was gone. The splashed ink was still there.

Henry leaned away with the controls. The boat veered left.

The Doctor shoved Henry.

Henry shoved the Doctor.

The Doctor yanked on the steering.

So did Henry.

The paddle-boatflipped.

_BZZZZZZZZZ SCRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_

Minutes. Seconds? Or could it be centuries?

Nothing but buzzing. And maybe the slightest nudge.

Something grabbed the Doctor’s arm. His head broke the surface, but he barely registered it.

He was heaved from the ink and plopped on cartoony wood. First thing, he spat up a bit of the banana he ate a while ago. The taste stung his throat.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor flicked ink from his face. This was better. This was so much better. He turned his head just as Henry was offering him his hand.

He accepted the help, but he turned his eyes toward the ink. The river rippled.

Henry pushed him toward the gate. “Get us out of here!”

The Doctor whipped out his sonic. _Whirr!_

They dove through the gate before it finished opening and pounded the lift’s call button. The Doctor heard a splash behind them. He thrust Henry into the lift.

  


As they made their way up, out, and through a vent, the Doctor filled Henry in. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he heard his tone lightening over the course of his explanation. Henry was bright enough to get that there was a second inky Bendy running around, who needed their help; and he was grinning as he wiped the vent grime off his knees.

When the two of them made it into the room with the dead Alice, something screeched. Light blinded the Doctor.

One of the Projectionists was lumbering toward them.

The Doctor tried the gate. It was jammed.

Something black wriggled in the shadows.

Light shone down the tunnel. The black thing was gone.

Knuckles smacked the Doctor’s back.

A shoulder knocked him to the wall. He dropped.

Henry yelped.

Something black dripped onto the Doctor. Ink wasn’t warm and sticky.

Something cracked. The projectionist stumbled back.

The Doctor slipped past an inky boot.

“Where did this come from?”

Whatever Henry found, the Doctor couldn’t see it. “Later. _Bit_ of a problem here!”

Hands grabbed the Doctor’s throat.

He pried at them.

They stayed in place.

He gasped. He kicked.

Whack! A plunger hit the Projectionist’s hands.

The monster roared.

Henry was staring at the plunger in his hands.

“Move!”

He whacked the Projectionist instead. Once. Twice. Three times. He dodged but landed on the ground.

“Hey!” The Doctor hadn’t taken one step when light burned his eyes.

The Projectionist lifted him by his collar.

He reached for his pocket.

“No!” Henry broke the plunger on the Projectionist’s back.

The monster’s grip slackened.

The Doctor tugged. Nothing came of it.

Henry rammed himself into their foe.

The Doctor hit the floor.

The Projectionist was wrapping its hand around Henry’s throat.

In the Doctor’s pocket, his fingers touched metal. He aimed it at the being’s projector. Whirr!

The light clicked off and the Projectionist screamed.

Henry rolled out from underneath.

The Doctor grabbed him and ran for the other gate. They thundered down the tracks and into the main part of Bendy Land. The Doctor glanced behind them. No Projectionist. His nostrils flared anyway. “Keep your eyes peeled for anywhere someone could store a child.”

Henry fiddled with something in his hands. “Keep your eyes peeled for anything. I think we’re being watched. Where else would this have come from?”

The Doctor looked around, but he saw only the usual amount of ink. He couldn’t see any of the thicker puddles that could indicate a creature. He took a step toward his latest acquaintance. “What did you find?”

Henry showed him a pellet of thick ink. “Usually, you can only get these off creatures. Not Projectionists. Nothing else was in there with us.”

The man curled he pellet to his palm as he bent and picked up a de-stringed fiddle that hadn’t been there the last time the Doctor was in Bendy Land. “If something’s watching, we’ve got to be prepared. I really hope I don’t have to fight with this.”

“Fight?” The Doctor snatched it away from him. “You Earth types and your weapons!”

Henry grabbed its neck. “Just because it’s not as good as your weapon doesn’t mean I’d hesitate to defend us or Bendy with it.”

“My weapon?”

“That noisy thing you used to blind the Projectionist.” Henry tugged the fiddle free, stumbled backward, and broke the fiddle on the floor.

The Doctor flared his nostrils. “ _That_ was a sonic screwdriver. It was not meant as a weapon.”

“If you say so.” Henry sniffed. “Do you smell overcooked chocolate and singed horse hair?”

The smell was coming from Research and Design.

  


The scent was potent in here. It made the Doctor want to gag, and judging by the hand over Henry’s mouth, the Pnetiiy was reacting the same way.

It had to be the steam coming from a barrel down on the main floor. From this balcony, the Doctor could see the Butcher Gang dancing around the set-up: a crafting machine, the barrel of boiling black liquid, and a discarded cut-out of a skinny puppet that the Doctor didn’t recognize. But there was no sign of Bendy unless the little demon was already in the brew.

The Doctor whispered out the side of his mouth. “I’ll deal with them. You search the other rooms for Bendy.”

He could feel the man’s eyes on him. “You can take them with your screwdriver?”

“Of course not. I can take them with my words.” Smirking, the Doctor stepped toward the stairs.

Henry grabbed his shoulder. “You’ll have to fight them.”

“It’s been violent enough as it is. Besides, I can talk my way out of anything. Well, almost anything. Just go.”

“Doctor-”

“Go!”

Henry’s hand lingered for a moment. Then it pulled away and the man’s footsteps tread toward the main warehouse.

The Doctor strolled down the stairs. He hung around the edges long enough to peek in some extra barrels. Empty.

Both rooms were similarly devoid of ink demons, so the Doctor stopped outside the room where Lacie, the poor thing, was still sobbing. There, the Butcher Gang were testing the consistency of their brew.

The Doctor cleared his throat. “You three wouldn’t have seen a little ink demon around? _The_ ink demon is angry. He’ll probably keep ripping heads off until he gets his son back. Have you seen his bigger form? That’s a week of nightmares right there.”

Two of the Butcher Gang picked up a pipe and a wrench from beside the barrel, which the Doctor hadn’t payed any mind to before. The insect made his way toward him, striking out with his prosthetic arm.

He backed up. “Easy! I’m doing you a favor, really!”

The plunger-legged humanoid roared.

The Doctor put his hands up. “Wait! I came to warn you that the Ink Demon’s on his way right now. I can talk him down if only I had his son with me – I talked him down when I was in his lair. Isn’t that something? I met him in his lair and lived to tell the tale!”

The insect struck at him.

Bang!

The insect slumped sideways and lay sprawled on the ground. His ink melted into a puddle and faded away.

The remaining two Butcher Gang members looked toward the entrance. So did the Doctor.

There stood Henry, the gun from the shooting booth in his hands.

“Henry! What did I just say about weapons? Now you’ve gone and killed someone!”

The man lowered his thick brows. His eyes shined with hatred, or perhaps tears“I’ve lived through the time loop with them at least five hundred times now.”

Inky veins formed in the warehouse behind the man.

The Doctor had been bluffing when he mentioned Inky. “Henry-”

“They’re heartless!” The man’s hands trembled. One removed another ink blob from his pocket and molded it into bullets. “I know they’re the ones who took Bendy.”

“More ink? Did he give it to you? Are you both trying to kill them?”

Henry loaded the gun. “He’s upstairs. What’s left of him. They’ll kill you too, and I can’t let that happen.”

The Doctor’s blood boiled. He took a breath. No, killing the murderers would only mean more deaths.

A soft whine came from out the door, soft enough that the Doctor was certain Henry couldn’t hear it. But in under a second, the veins stretched under Henry’s feet and the man tip-toed further into the room.

The Butcher Gang took advantage of the man’s distraction to chase the Doctor back toward Lacie’s prison. “Wait a minute, you two should be up there explaining things to the Ink Demon.”

A toonish tool whacked the Doctor’s thigh. He winced. “Or else you should be hiding. Either you killed Bendy or you didn’t.”

A growl made them all stop. The Doctor looked up in time to see Henry grabbing for the railing. A giant hand snatched him up.

The Doctor called out to the man.

Henry yelped. He dropped the gun, which clattered to the floor and went off. Bullets struck Inky’s legs and Henry’s thigh. Henry cried out. Black blood dripped from him.

But the demon, instead of showing that he’d noticed the bullets, the demon poked his head down low enough to point at the surviving members of the Butcher Gang and move a finger across his neck. He roared and charged out of sight.

The Doctor’s heart sunk. Henry would be dead by the time he could even escape these two Toons here, wouldn’t he?

With Inky gone, the sailor and the humanoid turned their attention back to the Doctor. He grabbed his screwdriver. “I don’t want to use this!”

The pirate struck his knee. His leg burned.

The Doctor dove inside. Think! What could he do to escape with everyone alive?

He spotted the puddle. Psychic ink. Of course!

He scooped some up. Quiet, but maybe it could work?

Something metal landed a blow to the back of his head. “Ow! Don’t do that!”

The next strike ripped his ink-soaked slacks.

He leaped onto the desk.

The Butcher Gang crowded in.

The Doctor backed into the corner. He wiped the ink on the robot’s head.

A wrench whacked his foot.

He yelped. He nursed it in his hands.

He grabbed for the robot’s legs.

Thud! The pipe almost got his hand.

The Doctor set the legs below the torso and soniced them together. He grinned. “You boys know there’s psychic technology around here, don’t you? I can improvise that too. Watch this!”

_Please work._ He begged. _Please be friendly. Friendly, and not just sitting there sobbing._

He aimed his screwdriver at the head.

Whirr!!!

The robot leaped up. It landed between the two Butcher Gang members.

They backed up. The sailor tested his weapon against his hand. His mouth stretched in a silent roar.

The robot had its legs spread. It crouched. Its head whipped around. It landed its eyes on the Butcher Gang. _Grrr…._

The Butcher Gang turned. The humanoid ran. The sailor tripped over his own feet. He got up, head getting strapped to his back as his own fishing line tangled around him. He ran forward anyway.

The Doctor stayed where he was. He kept his breathing very light. Come to think of it, there was only one ink creature he’d met with such untainted ink as he’d used for the psychic circuit.

The robot hobbled in a circle. It looked up at the Doctor with the ink spot dripping from its face and its half-grin frozen in place.

“Inky? That you?”

The robot shook its head, spraying some of its wet ink in the process. It hobbled to the ink puddle and stuck its hand in. On the ground it drew a small stick figure holding hands with two larger ones.

The small stick figure had horns, eyes, a smile and a bow tie. The largest one had horns, dripping ink, a smile, and its bow tie was lopsided. The third was human.

The Doctor gazed at the drawing. “Inky, Bendy, and is that Henry?”

The robot stuck its thumb up. Ink dropped off its forehead. It pointed at itself and then to Bendy.

“You’re okay! You’re not dead.” The Doctor fidgeted. “But they think you are.”

Bendy lowered the robot’s head. He pointed at Henry, then the Doctor, then out the door.

The Doctor met the robot’s eyes. “Bendy, where are you right now?”

Bendy pointed at Henry and then out the door. The last of the ink dripped off, and the robot toppled over.

“Bendy?” The Doctor got to his feet. “Bendy, if you can hear me, give me a sign!”

Nothing.

He ran to Lacie’s cage. “Have you seen a little ink demon around? Not the robot.”

Lacie sat there sobbing.

The Doctor kicked the metal. “Think. Assuming Bendy’s the size of a cut-out, that would mean he’s somewhere like-”

He hurried up the stairs and raced toward the shooting game. He looked in the stalls, behind the shelves, and in the trash cans. One of the trash cans was filled with ink. He took off its Bendy-head top for a better look.

It looked all liquid at first, but a cord broke a surface, and for just a moment, a glove. He poured it onto the ground, where it made a puddle that reformed into a Bendy who was tied up. Thick inky drops were falling from the child’s eyes.

“Now who thought to throw a perfectly good ink demon like you away?”

Bendy mouthed something at the Doctor.

“Yes, Henry. We’re going to save him. I’m going to need you with me to convince Inky to leave him alone. That is, if it’s not already too late.”

Bendy snuggled into the Doctor’s chest. He was cold, but that was alright. He was alive.

The Doctor secured his grip on Bendy and sprinted through the haunted house. In that room with the portraits, Alice and the projectionist lay on the floor.

The wooden gate was broken down. Smashed into bits.

He ran through. He reached the utility shaft when he heard a legion of voices. “The lying sheep thinks he can slip away, but if the sheep won’t come to the slaughter, then the slaughter will come to the sheep.”

Not them again. Nope. He and Bendy were going down a different way.

The Doctor cut the cord that restrained Bendy on the vent cover and prodded him in. He climbed in just in time to hear the footsteps that likely belonged to the psycho mask guy and his crowd.

Bendy clung to his arm, trembling.

The Doctor lifted the cover back in place and soniced it in.

Masked guy hurried over and peered in the vents. “ _YOU!_ Our lost sheep is here!” He tugged on the cover, but it was solidly in place.

The Doctor nudged Bendy forward. “We’ll lose them. It’s up ahead and to the right.”

They crawled through, reached the lift, and rode down to administration. Bendy raced through the halls, far outpacing the Doctor. He lost track of where the little demon went, but he continued along the route to the ink machine.

When he reached the first hallway of the incubation chambers, Inky’s roar shook the halls. He pushed faster. He zipped through the throne room, through the halls, and soniced the nursery door.

He tripped over Bendy, who was at the door, on his stomach, making an ink puddle with his tears.

Crash! Glass scattered across the floor. It dropped into the grate.

Henry raced toward the Doctor.

“Stop!” The Doctor stepped forward. “Inky, no! Don’t do this!”

Inky grabbed them both. They hit the back wall.

The Doctor blinked in time for the demon’s hand to come into focus. It snatched Henry.

He stumbled to his feet.

Inky knocked him down again.

“No!” The Doctor pointed to Bendy. “Look! You’re son’s alright! That’s what you wanted from Henry, wasn’t it? For him to get him back?”

Inky grabbed the Doctor. He swept him through the broken glass.

Bits jagged under the Doctor’s skin. They tore. They ripped.

Henry threw a glass fragment. “Over here!”

Inky growled.

The Doctor pressed his hand to the floor. Glass slivers stabbed his palm. He winced. But he pushed himself up.

Henry soared over his head. He lay in the shards. Stunned.

“Look, I don’t know what bad blood – or bad ink – is between you and Henry, but Bendy loves him! Considers him to be family. And Henry loves him too. I know you saw him earlier.”

Inky’s head turned toward the Doctor.

Good. It was working. Keep talking. “So, for Bendy’s sake, can’t you forgive him? Or at least let him be?”

Inky grabbed Henry by the ankle and shook him above the grate. Black blood dripped through the floor.

The Doctor swallowed. “No. This isn’t about revenge, is it? You’re still after Henry’s energy to hatch your eggs and charge the time loop, not caring how dangerous it is to everyone else.”

His nostrils flared. This was ending. Now. He pulled the film reel from his pocket. He kept his tone flat and level. “I’ve removed the time device. I will kill you and all your children if you don’t stop immediately.”

Inky dropped Henry with a clang.

The Doctor stared down the Ink Demon, reaching for his screwdriver.

Inky squinted at the film reel. He roared. A swipe. “Siren Serenade” snapped against a wall.

_Bleepbleepbleepbleepbleepbleepbleep!_

The demon stumbled back. He whined. He roared. He growled. He covered his horns.

The noise pierced even the Doctor’s own ears like a shrill whistle. He could barely hear leather shoes against metal.

Inky’s form shook.

Something collided with the Doctor’s shoulder. The screwdriver went flying.

Henry was right there. His eyes were narrow. He snarled. “That thing isnot meant as a weapon, and you’re torturing them both to death!”

“Stay out of my way.”

“No.” Henry reached behind the Doctor and scooped Bendy up. The little guy’s face was covered with ink from his eyes down. He wrapped himself around Henry’s neck, quaking. Henry rubbed his back.

The Doctor couldn’t help but soften at the sight. Children. Fatherhood. Love. Had he forgotten again already?

Henry deepened his voice. “What you’re doing is wrong and you know it.”

Inky growled. He signaled something to Bendy, but Bendy’s face was buried in Henry’s shoulder.

Henry sighed. “If all the eggs hatch, would he stop the time loop?”

“Henry, without the time loop, that would kill you. And it still wouldn’t be enough!”

“I know.” He whispered something in Bendy’s horn and shoved him at the Doctor. “Get him to someone who will love him. Someone who can teach him how to be good.”

Inky snatched Henry up.

“No!” The Doctor moved to put Bendy down. The little demon clung to him too tightly. “No. Inky, put. Him. Down.”

Inky bashed Henry against the last remaining glass pillar. It showered the Doctor and Bendy. It covered the Doctor in blood. It stung.

“I won’t run!” Henry called. “I will let you use me for whatever you have to. Just end the time loop.”

“No! Use me! I’m a Time Lord. I’m sure I’ve got enough time energy to hatch your eggs in one go.”

Bendy stopped crying. The Doctor felt his eyes on his cheek.

Inky paused. He engulfed Henry in his hand. He put his face in the Doctor’s. He growled.

“Well? Isn’t that better? A Time Lord in exchange for your creator?”

Inky shook his head. He crushed Henry. The Doctor could just hear Henry’s gasps.Black blood sprayed like water from a burst balloon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> An Angel’s touch.


	9. In Which Joey is Redeemed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> In the future, Joey and the Bendys come to save the Lz who was with the Doctor.
> 
> In the present, Henry and the Doctor fight over the paddle-boat’s controls as time ripples through, causing them to capsize the boat. They continue upstairs to look for Bendy and end up fighting a Projectionist and the Butcher Gang.
> 
> While Henry’s accusing the Butcher Gang of killing Bendy, he is captured by Inky. The Doctor uses psychic ink to bring the Bendy robot to life, and it turns out that the ink belongs to Bendy himself – who is still alive. He and Bendy run to save Henry, but Inky kills him in front of them.

When Inky opened his hand, there was nothing of the man left.

A cold face pressed itself to the Doctor’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He grit his teeth at the demon’s widening grin. He let Bendy clang to the floor. But what could he do against the demon with a child right there? “Is that really something you want your children to see?”

Inky stepped over a running Bendy to get to the Doctor. He squeezed the Time Lord before he could grab his screwdriver.

The Doctor’s feet left the ground. Blood rushed to his head.

“Leave him alone!”

He blinked: that was Henry’s voice.

“It’s me you want. I’m down here.”

The Doctor dropped. The open grate skinned his arm. He landed among the Bendy Angels.

A giant hand brushed past him. He heard Henry gasp again.

He looked up. “How are you still alive?”

“Later. _Bit_ of a problem here!”

The Doctor jumped on the mattress and grabbed the edge. He ignored a small gloved hand in favor of hoisting himself up. He rolled onto the floor.

The moment he tried to look around, Bendy climbed onto his chest. The little ink demon leaned forward. His mouth bounced between a line and a black oval, but only silence came out.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.”

The child pointed at Henry.

Henry was sliding down a wall, turning to ink. He vanished.

The Doctor moved Bendy off his chest. “I’m trying, but I don’t know how to help him anymore. He asked me to get you out of here.”

Bendy pressed something cylindrical and metallic into his hand – his screwdriver!

He wrapped his fingers around it and looked the child in the eyes. “This would kill you too. From anywhere on this floor, I’d wager.”

The Toon nodded. He hung his head and pointed to Inky’s fist.

Inky slammed Henry down in front of an infected Angel, only a yard away.

This time, the Doctor could see more details: first the blood sprayed the Angel, and then the Angel spat up ink that spread over Henry. The ink sunk into the floor. A moment later, Henry stood in front of the Angel.

The Doctor smiled. “Those are some impressive abilities. Psychic teleportation. Psychic healing. And you lot changed the Weeping Angels’ time abilities into something beneficial for other species. I’d say you’re a lot more responsible with your feeding than they ever were.”

Inky growled.

Stepping back, the Doctor added, “Well, most of you. Look, they’re going to run out of ink sooner or later, so you’re going to have to let Henry go. I told you – use me instead!”

Inky met the Doctor’s eye and hammered Henry against the ground.

Bendy pulled the Doctor away.

Inky growled.

Bendy yanked the screwdriver from the Doctor’s hands, hid it behind his back, and smiled at the larger ink demon.

The Doctor could only watch as Inky scooped Henry out from under the grates and grabbed him by two of his limbs. He held Henry directly over one of the Angels….

He found himself on his knees, where Bendy was thrusting the screwdriver at him. Once again, he was pointing at Henry.

“He killed him with ‘The End’ over and over.”

A nod.

“He knows you’re little parasites.”

The child’s lips parted, and his hand rubbed at something behind his horn.

Right. Perhaps _that_ level of language wasn’t intrinsic for this species. The Doctor’s eyes sought Henry out anyway. “You still love each other.”

A murderer and a parasite. There was no one that couldn’t be loved, was there? Because even if the Doctor made things worse or all his friends left him anyway, at least he had friends.

He put a hand to Bendy’s cheek. “Listen. It’s time to end this, but I am not going to sonic your species to death. Think you can distract Inky from coming after me or killing Henry off for good?”

Black tears dripped from the child’s eyes.

“You asked him earlier, didn’t you? And you don’t want to fight someone you love. That’s why you’re crying. You don’t have to do it that way. Demand attention. Pretend to be injured. Pull some zany cartoon gag.”

He nodded. He stepped on the shattered glass, held up a foot, and hopped over to Inky with crocodile tears.

The Doctor ran. Out of the nursery. Into the halls. Looking for the controls.

He found levers. Levers, levers, everywhere. He pulled one. No effect. And another. Still none. “Where are they?”

His eyes caught on an empty incubation chamber. He climbed in.

A bit of overhead wall showed Boris eating soup. Directly overhead was a giant pipe. “Please be dry.”

The Doctor pressed his hands on either side of the nook and climbed until his hand met congealed ink. It buzzed in his mind, but not as loudly as the wet stuff. When he peered ahead, all he could see was black. He set his sonic up to serve as a makeshift flashlight again and held it in his mouth.

He climbed higher, into the dizzying odor of ink and overcharged time. When he reached the top, dark liquid dripped in his eyes.

His stomach pulsed. He slipped. Splash!

He surfaced. His guts screamed. His mind vomited.

He slipped back under. His lips parted, and a bit of ink flowed in.

_The horned brunet leaned toward the front of his wheelchair. “I don’t hate Earth. My mother told me if I ever-”_

Now the Doctor’s lungs were burning too. He burst the surface and grabbed the hatch’s rim, coughing around his screwdriver. Nothing but the machine’s metal roof below him now. He spat the ink up, cursing Inky under his breath. “Is that why you needed it to be Henry? He’s Slvsonian enough for a genetic memory, and you were hoping it would speed things along.”

He eyed the ink through the hatch as he flung extra liquid from his face. “But it’s too strong to not affect the human part of him. The good news is I know how to help with those memory problems now.”

The Doctor finished ridding himself of as much ink as he could and looked around. Across a beam, tucked behind a pipe, was a small platform that had controls on the walls. He balanced. Below him, the inky moat lapped hungrily at the ink machine.

Stepping onto the platform, he ran his eyes over the controls. There were levers, buttons, and one dial. A pressure gauge was mounted below the safety switch, just like Thomas and Wally mentioned.

He read the labels at computer speeds. Flip. Flip. Turn. One buzz with his sonic screwdriver.

The pressure gauge stopped just shy of 45.

He stepped back onto the beam.

 

_The Lz asks, “Why didn’t you lot come earlier? You could have helped us!”_

“ _Don’t tell him!” The Doctor gets to his feet._

_Joey closes his eyes anyway. “Because I’m your son.”_

_The Doctor dares himself to look over. The Weeping Angel – the one they’re hunting – is there. The Bendy Angel is holding its right arm, but its free hand is inches from the Lz’s cheek._

_He blinks. The Lz is gone, so he glares at Joey._

_Joey grabs his wheels. “Don’t bother. You know there’s something we can do. It will ease our consciences.”_

“ _If I can even make it to my ship. My past self better survive that_ stupid, selfish _stunt of yours!”_

 

The Time Lord stumbled into the nursery, clutching his head. “Someone, go…. Go somewhere.”

“Doctor?”

He closed his eyes, ignoring the growling ink demon. They stayed shut until two warm hands grabbed his shoulder.

“Doctor!”

He opened his eyes. “Who? Is that me- Right! Of course that’s me.”

He’d never know if Henry understood him – the man was snatched by Inky. “Oi! Put him down.” The Doctor spotted a cut-out.

Little ink demons. Right. They’d die if this whole place blew. He estimated over fifty of them. “Kids, Level-”

They whizzed past before he could finish giving directions. All but the child made of ink, who was helping a revived Henry upright.

He aimed his sonic at the ceiling. “It worked better than expected,” he called, “like we collided with a time event anyway.”

Inky growled. He glanced at the Doctor.

“There’s more charge in the ink than it can hold. Touch it too long, and even you would die. Stop this or I will bring it all flooding here.”

Inky charged. He hit the Doctor to a wall.

“Henry, take Bendy and run!” He soniced the pipe pressure.

Henry darted past him.

Ink sprayed like a fire sprinkler. Inky shielded his face.

The Doctor’s skin burned. His stomach met his throat. He twisted up into a runner’s stance.

The hall stretched in front of him. One corner. Two. He could see the moat. Twenty paces. Ten.

BOOM!

A wave pushed him into the ink.

It was like his mind was a radio whose dial got pushed between stations. He could hear voices on other frequencies, but there was nothing but that crackling static to fill his own thoughts.

He smelled vomit. He tasted ink. He was wrapped in hellfire.

He understood none of it.

A set of hands pulled him from the ink. Someone whispered – no, shouted – at him. It felt like he should know that word.

Stone rubbed his legs, his back. Ink was left behind.

He finally opened his eyes. Yellow. Black. Bright. Dark.

He turned. His throat drew up acid. He left the ink on the ground.

The dragging stopped. “Are you alright now?”

The Doctor plopped on his back. Fuzzy. He could just make out two pie-cut eyes and some face more flesh-colored. He blinked. They came back in focus.

The ground shook.

He shot up. “I told you to run – Level K!”

Bendy shot off, but Henry stood there. “I don’t remember the way back up.”

The Doctor grabbed his arm. They rounded the corner and collided with Bendy.

The little demon climbed into Henry’s arms. He quivered.

A Searcher crawled in front of them, and Henry dodged its grabbing hand. “Don’t you have any weapons?”

“Weapons aren’t my thing.” The Doctor leaped over and kicked the monster into the ink. It dissolved instantly.

Henry tightened his grip on Bendy.

“Come on! The lift is this way!”

They bolted. They made it to administration with ink lapping their heels.

The Doctor soniced the lift doors open. Then shut. He aimed it straight ahead.

Momentum shoved them into the floor as the lift shot up. The elevator stopped. They hit the ceiling.

“Oof.”

The ground rumbled.

The Doctor gulped. “I’d say we have less than five minutes.”

Henry pressed them all to the doors. They stumbled out.

The cable snapped behind them.

“Which way?”

The Doctor looked around. Posters. Hallway. Rotting floor. Only one message from Henry: _WH_ _Y AM I STILL HERE?_

Henry pushed his arm. “Sammy!”

“Sheep, sheep, sheep. It’s time for sleep. Rest your head. It’s time for bed. In the morning, you may wake, or in the morning, YOU’LL BE DEAD!” The masked madman was running toward them, several of his followers keeping pace.

The Doctor led them away from the crazy cultists.

A fresh tremor shook the building. Their legs gave out under them.

Some of the nut jobs caught up. One of the Lost Ones hit Bendy with a pipe.

The Doctor kicked him in the knee. He fell over. The Doctor wrest the pipe away from him.

He raised it just in time to block a hit to the face. He risked a check on his companions.

“Run.” Henry was shoving Bendy. “Hide.”

The Doctor’s distraction cost him a punch to the cheek. His head was forced sideways. He tasted blood.

A wrench flew over his face. Crunch! It hit his attacker.

Henry pulled him up.

A quake forced everyone to the wall. A Little Miracle Station across the room smashed through it.

“Bendy!” Henry was turning his back on an over-sized Searcher.

A hand grabbed the Doctor’s neck hair. He glimpsed a banged-up mask before an ax blade rested on his forehead.

“YOU ARE A FAKE SAVIOR! THE SERVANT OF A FALSE LORD!”

A flying wrench gave the mask a nose. “He’s done nothing!”

Sammy turned his head. “YOU! YOU LIED TO US!”

He dropped the Doctor and stomped toward Henry instead. The Pnetiiy was being pinned to the floor.

The Doctor grabbed Sammy’s hand. He twisted his ax away.

Sammy turned in time to save himself from being axed in the back of the head. The emergency tool snapped the mask instead.

Nothing but black was underneath.

Sammy covered his lack of face with his hands. “NO, HOW DARE YOU! DON’T LOOK AT ME!”

He ran off. Two more enemies took his place.

They swiped at the Doctor’s legs and stomach. He stumbled to Henry.

He swung out. He cut down three enemies.

Six took their place. No, eight – the survivors of the Butcher Gang were here too. The humanoid landed a blow to the back of Henry’s head.

Nothing for it. He hated to use it, but-

He aimed the sonic down the hall. He got the frequency right. The ink creatures shook. They screeched.

The floor collapsed.

The Doctor caught the edge. He caught Henry. His screwdriver fell out of sight.

Something roared in the room that Bendy had crashed into. _Click. Click. Click. Click._

Light blinded the Doctor. Ink stepped on his hand. He gasped. The pressure increased, and then it was off.

The footsteps ran the other way.

His hand was sweating.

A cold white-gloved hand wrapped around his wrist.

Ink dripped onto his arm. It was coming from the remaining half of Bendy’s right horn, obscuring half his face. If he’d been grinning, he could have been mistaken for another form of Inky’s.

The Doctor tightened his grip on Henry. “Forget us. Get to safety.”

Henry tightened his grip back. “Listen to him.”

Bendy tugged. The Doctor’s fingers left the floor. He and Henry rose two inches. The ride was smooth, and he couldn’t tell if the kid was even breaking a sweat! It brought the memory of a certain Bendy Land door to mind.

Something screeched, and light danced across the hallway. Extra silhouettes leaned in – the surviving members of the Butcher Gang.

“Watch out!”

A pipe whacked Bendy’s hand. The kid fumbled.

He caught them again, but the demon was flat to the floor, his own shoulders dipping into the hole. The floor was sagging, and far below, the Doctor could hear the gurgling of rushing ink.

Charley overbalanced and brought Barley with them. They dropped past the Doctor. Their chattering blended into the bangs and rushes.

Thudding footsteps tilted the floor. Light burned the Doctor’s eyes. _Creeaaak!_

“Drop us now!”

Bendy’s second hand wrapped around the Doctor’s wrist. He yanked. They somersaulted down the hall. Boards cracked behind them.

The footsteps and the light was still there. The Projectionist screeched.

The Doctor got up. “Run!”

The Projectionist chased them into a narrow room covered in shattered glass. A table displaying a vivisected clone barred their way to the already-broken point in an observation window.

The Time Lord slowed to avoid the obstacle.

Henry pointed to their pursuer. “Blind him!”

“I _can’t_. I lost my screwdriver!”

The Projectionist grabbed Henry. He rasped for breath.

No Angels here to revive him.

Bendy stabbed his remaining horn into the Projectionist’s leg.

The Projectionist used Henry to knock him off. Both Bendy and Henry hit the glass.

The light was in the Doctor’s eyes. He shielded them with one hand.

A corpse-laden table batted the Projectionist through the window. Bendy tossed it aside.

The Doctor moved for the door.

Henry’s hand stopped him. “Wait. I know where we are. We’ve got to go through that gate there.”

Bendy climbed the console and blinked at the controls.

Henry peered over and pressed a button. The gate opened.

They climbed through the glass, stepping on Henry’s psychic _BLAH, BLAH, BLAH._

The ground lurched. Boards snapped behind them. There was a low growl.

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder. Half the face was melted, the arms were scarred, and a bit of bone was showing through the forehead, but Inky’s beast form remained otherwise intact. “Run!”

They ran through the gate.

“Alice! Tom!”

The Doctor pushed Henry forward. They leaped over cartooon corpses lying on the barrels.

Inky snapped the planks behind him, hissing at contact with the ink. His claws got the Doctor’s hair as he left through the mangled main gate.

Thuds. Creaks. Snaps. Closer and closer.

Pounding up the stairs, they dodged inky creatures that sprung from the puddles. There was a hoard on their tail.

The Doctor missed a step. Something got his leg.

He kicked it.

Henry shoved him to the wall.

Inky crashed through, leaving a hole in the boards.

They reached the fork. The Angel Path and the Demon path looked much the same now. Which way?

_Grrr._

Inky sprung from the ink on the Demon Path’s floor.

They took the Angel Path. Its ink blistered their skin.

The Bendys were gathered ahead. A gate barred their passage.

Bendy gestured to a few of the infected angels.

Blink.

Now the gate was open. They stumbled. The Doctor lost his jacket to Inky somewhere in the dark hall.

It slowed the demon long enough for them to clear the safe house door.

They ran into the hall.

Inky roared less than a foot behind them.

The Doctor tackled his friends to the ground.

Inky’s fist flew overhead and bumped into a force field. The demon recoiled.

The Doctor shooed the others further into the TARDIS’s protection

Inky pounded against the shields. He was thrown off. He hit the floor and the boards cracked. So did the hall’s already-leaking pipe. It sprayed Inky.

Its ink only showered him. He batted at the pipe.

The Doctor got to his feet. “Come on! My ship’s just in here. We’ll be safe in it.”

He zipped inside, shoved his key in the lock, and opened the door. “Everyone inside!”

The cut-outs and Angels filled the console room. Henry and Bendy crossed the threshold. Henry stopped. “How is this place so big?”

The Doctor shoved him forward. He climbed in himself.

He reached the controls and twisted the dials and knobs to get them away to safety.

Roar!

The Doctor looked up and saw Inky’s fingers gripping the door frame. “What?”

He ran to another console. Shields down. A slight dent in their lever.

Screech!

Those were Inky’s claws against the interior wall. They left long drag marks.

The TARDIS herself started screaming.

“Come on!” The Doctor jiggled the lever. It was stuck.

The floor gave way. The TARDIS rocked. The Doctor braced against the door frame to stay inside.

His ship rocked, throwing everyone to the back of the room and slamming the door behind them. She bucked the other way. The Doctor caught the console and pulled himself to the controls. This lever. Yes! Yes! She was steady!

Inky reached inside.

Henry yelped.

“No you don’t!” The Doctor rocked his ship.

Inky hit the door. He released Henry.

The Doctor tilted his ship the other way.

Inky was bucked into a cascade of ink. It poured down his head faster than it ever did in his calmer form. His arms flailed.

The Doctor got his ship upright before the demon’s final scream pierced his soul.

Henry closed the door and Bendy wrapped himself around the man’s leg with a loud sniffle. He picked the demon up. “I know, buddy. I wish it could have turned out differently.”

He leaned his head against the painted wood. Joining him at the door was every stone or cardboard Bendy that could fit. They clung to each other in one mourning mass, a silent vigil, a garden of memorials.

The Doctor’s hearts throbbed. Those were just children, down a parent now. “He might be severely injured, not dead. We could look for him.”

Bendy shook his head and buried it into Henry’s shoulder.

Henry brought his hand to rest on Bendy’s back. “I can understand him. He says he can’t feel him anymore.” Slowly, he turned away from the door, head low enough that his eyes were cast in shadow. “He’s never been able to feel the other ink creatures.”

The Doctor squeezed a lever handle. “You didn’t kill him. Not permanently. That was me. And the others, they were already dead. They’re free now.”

The Pnetiiy just stood there, rubbing Bendy’s back and whispering into his whole horn, so the Doctor busied himself with checking his ship’s status. Power: good. Damage: the walls were already healing. The chameleon circuit took a little more, but it hadn’t worked in centuries anyway.

The Doctor glanced at the others again.

Henry was patting the cut-outs and statues on the head now. “We’re going to be alright.”

“You are,” he said. “You’ll be happy to know that your memories should start returning now that you’re away from all that overcharged ink. I’m sorry I-”

Henry met his eyes. “We understand, Doctor.”

 

The Doctor opened the door to a small kitchen with blinding color. He smelled ink.

_Grr._

There, sitting on a stool, was a lanky ink demon covered in bandages. A brunet Lz with thinning hair sat in a wheelchair beside him, resting a hand on the demon’s knee. “You’re safe. If he was going to hurt you, he wouldn’t have gone back for you, would he?”

Swallowing, the Doctor stepped out of his ship. Sure there was a deadly ink being not four feet away, but his feet felt lighter as they met the kitchen tiles. “Joey Drew, I presume.”

Joey patted Inky’s knee. “He’s got too much Lz in him. Deprive him of the company of those with compatible psychic levels and he’ll get desperate to find more. If he can’t find more, well, that’s when people have psychotic episodes that can last decades. Give Bendy and I two weeks to get him more stable and then I can go with you.”

The Doctor blinked. “Go with me?”

“Sure!” Joey grinned. “There’s still a Weeping Angel on Slvson that’s bound to create more refugees to go insane if it’s not stopped, and apparently future me needs to tell my father something to calm Inky down long enough to rescue him.”

Joey had a point about the Weeping Angel.

“Is that what happened?”

Henry and Bendy had stepped outside the TARDIS. Bendy was tugging on Henry’s hand, and the man let him go with a smile. The little demon jumped on Inky’s lap.

Joey's eyes lit up. “You’re alive!”

He nodded. “And the Doctor was right: my memories are coming back. Some parts are still fuzzy though. I might need a little help explaining everything to Linda.” He directed his eyes to the Doctor. “Is everyone safe now?”

He nodded. “Just got to complete the loop with Joey, and time will be stable. No dead you. No dead Inky. No exploding solar system.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s in the works:
> 
> \- More chapters of “Choose Your Ink.” Status: being posted.  
> \- A BATIM story where Toons are being hunted down. Status: being outlined.

**Author's Note:**

> References to BATIM in my other works:  
> *An Alien on Gallifrey - Donna, the Doctor, and the POTUS watch Oedipus Rex in the S. Lawrence Performing Arts Building.  
> *Chiswick Mercy - the Eleventh Doctor takes River to a studio that brings inky creations to life (although these ones turn out to be robots).


End file.
